


Gallagher Girls: the Next Generation | The Girl Time Forgot

by farynrose



Category: Gallagher Girls Series - Ally Carter
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farynrose/pseuds/farynrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persephone Blackburn was used to being alone, with the exception of being part of the Four Suits but even within the Four Suits the identity of her fellow members were unknown to her. She only knows what they can do and what is planned for them at each show they perform, but all of this changes when Agent Cameron Goode bursts through the doors of Persephone's room and requests her for a mission Agent Goode believes only Persephone can manage. Is it possible for a magician to be trained into a spy? Can Persephone Blackburn, a trickster and an illusionist, be the spy that everyone apparently needs? After all, she's just an orphan. She's the girl time forgot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alter-egos and Covers

“Persephone Blackburn, you are under arrest.”  
  
        The door to my room burst open as loud footsteps stomped in on the wooden floors, I held up a hand at the sweeping lights of flashlights as they blinded my eyes and flashed about the dark room before they settled on me. A tall, slender woman dressed in all black and sunglasses with her light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, came through the door and stood at the centre of my room, and as my eyes recovered from the light’s assault, I saw a small smirk tug at the corner of her lips. My eyes darted from the woman to the five officers in black SWAT uniforms surrounding me, and even with all the knowledge I knew about disappearing and making a flashy exit, I knew when it’s impossible to make a clean escape, especially when five assault rifles were trained on me. So I slowly raised both my hands and the smirk on the woman’s face grew, she gave a subtle nod signaling the closest officer, who came up to me and took my wrist, they twisted me around and I heard the clicks of handcuffs and felt them pinching my skin. My eyes drifted down to the card on the desk in front of me, a large moon was drawn in the centre of the card and in front of the moon was a wolf howling and a crayfish just below in the waters, and at the bottom of the card in bold letters were the words _The Moon_. From behind I heard the woman approach as her heels clicked on the wooden floors, I turned my head then felt a slap to my forehead, it felt warm and soon my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier, my breathing and heartbeat slowed and then darkness engulfed my vision.  
  
        Consciousness floated back to me and I woke up to find a cold, hard surface beneath my left cheek, I jolted backward and heard the rattling of chains, and I noticed the long silver chain clamped to the metal table in front me and my wrists caged in the handcuffs on the other end of the chains. My surroundings were shadowed in black with only the bright light hanging over me, and to my left stood three large screens. I heard the click of a door opening then footsteps approaching, and the woman from before appeared out of the shadows, she wore the same black suit but discarded the sunglasses, and I noticed she looked rather ordinary although she was anything but plain, nothing about her seemed to pop out, not her brown hair or eyes and I knew if she were to be in a crowd of people, I doubt I’d even notice or remember her.  
  
        “Hello Ms. Blackburn,” She said with a smile as she took a seat across from me and placed a file in front of her. “I know your name, but you don’t even know mine. I’m Agent Cameron Goode. Would you like anything to drink? Anything to eat?”  
  
        “What am I charged for?” I bluntly asked. Okay, in retrospect that was a stupid question because I knew exactly what I do and the cost of my actions, and I didn’t expect Agent Goode to know but she must have because she cocked a perfectly plucked brow. The chains rattled as I shifted in my seat.  
  
        “Shall we take a look?” She said and gestured to the three screens on my left, I turned my head and the black screens exploded with colour and images. I felt my breath catch as I looked at the screen in the middle, a girl dressed in a simple short black and gold one piece with a black jacket stood in the centre, her pale face glowed in the light of the stage, her smile wide and charming as she waved to the crowd, her mouth moved but there came no sound. Her dark eyes were framed by the elegant yet simple black mask that hid away her true identity, and at the right of her jacket, glimmering in gold thread, was a large cursive A.  
  
        “You’re the Ace of the Four Suits, and definitely the hardest one to track out of the other three.” Agent Goode pointed to the screen where on the two other screens, three other masked faces appeared, all waving and smiling, all voices muted and I wondered if the others were chained and interrogated as well. “And what the four of you did last month was very impressive,” Another smirk tugged at Agent Goode’s lip, “but also seen as a crime to some people.” I shrugged.  
  
        “Not our fault that insurance company didn’t give two shits about their customers. We only returned what rightful belonged to them.” I leaned back in my chair. “So am I charged for playing Robin Hood?” It was Agent Goode’s turn to lean back in her chair, but a mischievous smile crossed her lips and our gazes never left the other.  
  
        “No,” She simple said. “This is not the case I’m extremely interested in.” Agent Goode admitted then opened the folder in front of her, where she pulled out a picture and slid it toward me. I leaned forward and saw the one face that always clouded my vision with anger and boiled my blood at the mention of his name, but my head was calm and my blood cool as I looked back up at Agent Goode.  
  
        “Mr. Craw, one of the richest men and with the highest security around his home, committed suicide a little over a year ago because he could have sworn a little girl was out to kill him.” Agent Goode then slid another photo, this one was a blurry mess of black and white and grain as the photo was zoomed in, but in the mess was an outline of the silhouette of a girl just a little ways from the dead body that drowned in its own blood. If I hadn’t known better, I would have shivered at the sight of the photo, at the creepy girl standing in the shadows, at the dead man in the tub with blood overflowing, but I did know better because that girl, that fifteen year old girl in the shadows, was me.  
  
        “Now,” Agent Goode continued, “she was good, really good.” She emphasized her voice almost in awe and I glanced up. “But not quite good enough.” And Agent Goode held up a small piece of fabric, ripped and frayed at the ends, and I thought back to the hole in my sweater. This time Agent Goode leaned forward, her stare firm and her hands clasped together on the table in front of her.  
“And this is where it gets interesting,” Her voice low. “We traced this fabric back to its owner but to our surprise it led us to a dead end, and that dead end was Rose Ch–”  
  
        “Your point is?” I snapped.  
  
        “How did you do it, Ms. Blackburn?” Agent Goode asked. “How did you get past Mr. Craw’s tight security, alone? How did you drive Mr. Craw so far gone that he had no other choice but to take his own life?” Her words should have shot a pang of guilt or shame through me, but they didn’t. I should have been guilty for taking another person’s life, but I wasn’t. I was glad he was gone. I was happy I gave him pain. I was proud that I drove him insane. Agent Goode repeated her question with emphasizes. “ _How did you do it?_ ” And then the surprise hit me. My brows creased in the centre, my eyes stared firmly at hers and I straightened a little. She was asking me  _how_ , not  _why_. Agent Goode must have seen the realization in my eyes because to my surprise again, she smiled then leaned back. Was this a test? Some sort of reversed psychology?  
  
        “Ms. Blackburn, you’re not in trouble. You’re not charged.” Then she thought better for a moment. “Well, no there is a charge for murder.”  
        “I was fifteen! And he committed suicide, so technically he wasn’t murdered.” I countered and Agent Goode smirked.  
  
        “So you admit you did do this.” I rolled my eyes.  
  
        “What’s your point?” I asked. Agent Goode sat up a little straighter, for a second her gaze darted down to the metal table and her jaws clenched before she looked at me again.  
  
        “There’s a task,” She began. “A task, I feel, maybe only you can do.”  
   
  
        I woke up to the sight of a white ceiling.  
  
        “Good morning.” Agent Goode said from the other side of the room, and I turned my head to see her closing the curtain to the only window in the small room.  
  
        “You know you need to stop slapping whatever it is you’re slapping on my forehead.” I said as I sat up in the creaky bed and swung my legs over to the side. Agent Goode gave me a small smile.  
  
         “Sorry, this will be the last time.”  
  
        “Yeah, okay.” I mumbled. I looked around the small space, two doors stood on one side of the room, one door led to the bathroom and the empty archway led to the kitchen and the front door. It was a two room house that needed cleaning, a lot of cleaning. “So this is a safe house.” My eyes skimmed over the ugly yellow wallpapers and the dusty floorboards then they landed on the grey, worn backpack at the end of my bed.  
  
        Last night I was blindfolded and brought back to my apartment where I was able to grab a few of my belongings, which really, only consisted of the few clothes I had in my drawer and my box of tricks. As Agent Goode and I walked toward my door, I turned back around one more time and looked back at my room, where tons and tons of paper and blueprints littered the room. I pulled out a black glove from my bag, slipped my hand through and felt the coarse surface of the glove's finger tips as I lightly rubbed my fingers together, I brought my hand down on the table that stood next to me and snapped my finger, a spark triggered and the whole room burst into flames. Agent Goode whipped around and pulled me down with her as she jumped for cover, her body shielding mine but I could see her eyes widened at the sight of the flames engulfing everything but the room itself. All the paper and blueprints were gone in an instant, no smoke, no residue and no smell left behind, just a single Ace card on the floor. All evidence of my living in that room was gone, all evidence of the Four Suits’ plans vanished, and I was once again a ghost to the world. The wight of Agent Goode lessened as she got up, her mouth parted in surprise at the clean room, and before she uttered the question I lifted my gloved hand and answered. “Flash paper.”  
  
        When Agent Goode walked out of the room and out the front door, leaving me alone for a moment I pulled the dark grey pack toward me and took out the thin, beautifully illustrated blue card out of the front pocket, I thought back to a little over a year ago when I formally received the card after the Mr. Craw incident, I stared at the words at the bottom:  _The Moon,_ and wondered if– no, I knew taking this task would mean I would no longer be a part of the Four Suits, and Raz Caelin would find that out soon enough once he finds my room empty with no trace of his letters or plans left, and the Ace card on the floor. I tucked away the tarot card and pushed myself off the creaky bed, making my way to the front door, where the door was ajar and I paused at the sound of Agent Goode’s voice.  
  
        “Zach, I know what I’m doing is– No, Zach don’t. This might be the best solution and you know it.” Who was Zach? I didn’t hear another voice, so either Agent Goode was nuts or she was on the phone, and I’m leaning more toward phone call because that seemed more logical, I think. I felt bad for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t stop listening when Agent Goode’s voice was quiet, strained and almost begging. “Zach, don’t you dare go, please. Not alone, don’t go alone. I can’t–” She paused and let out a deep breath.  
  
        “Zach,” Her voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear what she said. “Please don’t let the kids to be fatherless.” At this I turned away and walked back to the other room, my heart tightened for a second before I shook away the feeling. It was getting personal. Okay, yeah I know it was already a personal phone call, but at least I walked away now. I sank back onto the bed. Agent Goode had a husband. She had kids. Was this another one of the reasons I was chosen? I rubbed my hands together and leaned back on the bed just as Agent Goode came back into the room and cocked her head.  
  
        “Come on, our ride is here.”  
   
  
        I sat near the window at the backseat while Agent Goode sat in the passenger seat, and our driver whom I heard Agent Goode call Grant, a rather tall man with dark brown curls and sun-tanned skin, sat at the front in the driver’s seat.  
  
        “So your name is Persephone?” Grant asked with a glance at the rear view mirror, I caught his dark eyes for a split second before turning back to my window.  
  
        “Mhm,”  
  
        “That’s a cool name, like the Greek Goddess.” He said and I refrained from rolling my eyes, letting the silence linger into awkwardness after a while. Then Grant clicked his tongue a little too loud that startled me, and turned his head to look at Agent Goode.  
  
        “How are you, Cam?” He asked. Cam– err, no, Agent Goode, brought a hand to Grant's face and turned his attention back to the road. Grant chuckled. “Don’t worry I won’t jump to the other side of the road.” I continued to watch the scenery zip pass as Agent Goode laughed along with Grant, a little inside joke between two old friends, but if anyone from the outside looked in through the windows, they probably would have seen a happy couple with a typical teenager for a daughter. A happy little, interracial family out on a final last road trip on a sunny day before school started for their baby girl. My nails bit into my palms and I clenched my teeth.    
   
        “Just be glad I convinced Bex to let me drive the two of you instead.” Grant said and Agent Goode laughed again. But on the inside of the car, we were anything but a family and I was just a complete stranger to the two friends.   
  
        “Thank you for saving Persephone from that terror.” I felt the car stop, idling a bit longer than it should have and then turned, the car ride was starting to feel like it was never going to end and Agent Goode must have read my mind, or saw the look on my face because she said, “counter surveillance,” The look on my face must have betrayed my confusion because she then added, “making sure we’re not being followed.” I nodded as if I really understood and turned back to my window, images blurred and blended with one another as they passed by and I felt my eyelids grow heavier and heavier.  
  
        I jolted awake when the car came to a stop and Grant announced, “We’re here.” I looked out the window to see the sky had already turned dark, but what captivated my attention was the giant white stoned mansion with ebony black roof tiles, that stood on a perfectly manicured lawn. I gazed up to see a large balcony hanging over me, and the bottom part of the balcony was merged with the tall arch that stood over the front doors, at both sides of the archway were long, but large white pillars. Agent Goode held open the door and I climbed out, pulling my backpack onto my shoulders as I stared up at the building, the lights spewing from the mansion seemed so alive and full, unlike the small apartment I was used to living in. I turned around, looking past the roof of the black car behind me, and saw a grand fountain framed by the circular driveway and passed the fountain and driveway was a tall back fence, the bottom lined with rosebushes, I heard the soft spews and splashes of the running water and breathed in the last of the peaceful, summer air.  
  
        This mansion was anything but old, Agent Goode had told me the Gallagher Academy had been more than a hundred and fifty years old, but the building in front of me said otherwise as the structure of the so-called hundred and fifty year old mansion was built with a modern sense. The white walls were a mix of smooth stones and concrete walls, windows lined the sides and underneath the windows grew bushes and flowers, while the driveway was a long, curving path of cobblestones, and it looked as if the past of the mansion was battling with the present.  
  
        “Dad!” I watched as the girl ran from the open mansion doors and into the arms of her father, I felt my heart tighten as I watched Grant swing his daughter as she giggled and hugged her tightly. I looked away, my hands balled into fists and I found myself with the same old anger running back through my veins, the fire that I thought I satisfied and distinguished when I saw Isidore Craw drowned in his own blood, but there was something new now and it twisted in my stomach.  
  
        “Hey baby girl,” Grant chuckled then set his daughter down, he turned to me just as Agent Goode gave me a gentle push forward. “Scarlet, this is Persephone. Persephone, this is my eldest daughter Scarlet Newman.”  
  
        Scarlet smiled, she had the same sun kissed tan as her father, her high cheekbones are probably from her mother and she bore a strong British accent as she said, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you. Are you in the same year as me?”  
  
        “No, Persephone’s actually in your brother’s year.” Agent Goode answered for me, she then nudged me forward again. “Scarlet, could you take Persephone to the girl’s room? Your father and I have somethings we need to take care of.” Scarlet happily agreed and took me by my wrist, dragging me away from the peaceful night and into the mansion.  
  
        I’m not exaggerating when I say I was blinded by the unbelievably bright lights of the foyer, if I hadn’t just seen the night sky outside, I would have thought it was afternoon inside this mansion. My head fell back as my gaze trailed up at the three story high foyer, a large crystal chandelier hung in the middle, dangling over a smaller white fountain and behind the small fountain was a lounging area with couches and chairs lined with soft, velvet cushions. Two grand staircases mirrored each other, almost framing the chandelier and lounge from both sides as they curved up and leading to the second platform. The simple, white marble floor of the foyer was so polish I could see our reflection as Scarlet took me to one of the grand staircases.  
  
        “Tomorrow’s the first day of school, so it’s going to get even more hectic than it is now.” Scarlet explained as she pulled me up the grand stairs. _There’s going to be more students here tomorrow than there is today_ , the thought ran over and over through my mind as I watched students racing down the shiny, polished halls laughing and giggling, some stopping to call Scarlet over but she waved them off, holding my wrist up as if that explained everything, but I guess it did because the other students shrugged and moved on, but with curious looks toward me.  
  
        Dags, how big was this school? It felt like an absolute maze, a very shiny white-marbled-and-gold-designed-walls maze, as Scarlet led me by the wrist, twisting and turning corners and upstairs. Finally, Scarlet slowed as we began approaching a hall where I assume was the girl’s common room. We entered a large beige and white round room that looked too modern with its glossy wooden floors and fashionable walls, a round couch was built into the floor while on the other side of the room was another lounging area. Scarlet pulled me passed the comfy, long couches that sat in front a black marble-stone fireplace with a large T.V. hanging above it, and toward the spiraling stairs. She brought me to the second floor and into one of the rooms where three girls occupied the room with four beds, two beds lined one wall and the other two lined the other while four identical wooden trunks lay at the end of the beds. A window stood opposite of me at the other side of room where beneath it, sat a small window-seat with red velvet cushion and pillows, four moderate desks occupied the four corners of the room.  
  
        “Cassy, Lindy, Trena, this is your new roommate, Persephone… Um,” Scarlet turned to me and I looked at her, realizing for a moment that she didn’t know my last name.  
  
        “Blackburn,” I said quietly. I looked at the three new faces staring back at me, the first to approach me was a short, curvy girl with a round face and long brown hair.  
  
        “Hi, I’m Cassandra Ng, but you can call me Cass,” She smiled sweetly and her dark blue eyes smiled with her, then she gestured to the girl sitting on one of the trunks, who tucked her long legs underneath her and ran a hand through her wavy black hair, giving me a perfectly sweet and charming smile, “that’s Lindy McHenry-Winters and that’s,” Cass gestured to the last girl who sat on one of the beds, her dark red hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Trena Vale.”  
  
        “Your bed is over there,” Trena pointed to the bed near the window.  
  
        “You girls help Persephone settle in then,” Scarlet patted my back, giving me a pearly white smile then walking away. I stepped into the room and felt their eyes on me as I made my way to my bed where I dropped my backpack and pulled out my pajamas.  
  
        “Bathroom’s over there,” a voice came from behind and I turned around to see Lindy pointing to the other side of the room, where a white door stood open, revealing a mirror that hung over a sink. I nodded thanks and walked over to bathroom, closing the door behind me I stared back at the girl in the mirror. I took a deep breath in, closing my eyes then relaxing my shoulders as I let the breath out. Millions of thoughts and questions swarmed my mind: how did I end up here? I was just a magician, an illusionist, and now I’m here? A magician recruited to be trained as a spy? Is that even possible? They were two very different things! _This_ is what a spy school looks like? My entire life has always been one wild and messy ride, one hill after the other, so this should be normal for me, going from place to place never having a real home to settle into completely. But being here, provided with such luxury, I couldn’t help but feel this was a bit different.  
  
        When I came back out from the bathroom, my face freshly washed and in the comfort of my plaid pajama bottoms and black t-shirt, the lights were already off and everyone was in their beds sleeping. I quietly walked back to my bed where my backpack sat undisturbed. I looked around the dark room, the only light came from the moon through our window. I was used to dark quiet rooms, after all I did live by myself until Agent Goode busted in and swept me away, but what I wasn’t used to was having others around me. I heard someone’s soft snore, my eyes passed over the girl sleeping in the bed next to mine she stirred and turned in her sheets. The room was already decorated with posters, clothes were strewn around the floor, I saw one desk filled with books and paper, another with a stereo already plugged in and propped up. I took in the sight of the lived-in room, and knew at that instant I didn’t belong because even though these girls were being trained into the spy business, they were still girls with favourite bands and favourite books, they had the comfort of each other, known each other long enough to call one another sisters or best friends, I on the other hand, am a complete stranger, an outsider who knows nothing of what it means to be like these girls, to be like these people. So I grabbed my bag, pulled on a sweater and quietly made my way to the door and did what I did best, disappear without another trace.  
  
        I started wandering the corridors, attempting to retrace my steps but the mansion at night with all its light suddenly burnt out, looked very different from the mansion with all its light on and people running around the halls. The whole place was quiet, as if the mansion itself was asleep, and I found the dark empty halls somewhat comforting and peaceful. I came across a set of stairs and headed down, thinking it was the same set of stairs from earlier before, but the mansion completely transformed that night as I ended up in a really dark hall, with only the moonlight from both the windows and sunroof guiding me along. I stopped in my tracks and looked around, in front of me windows curved with the round shape of the room, flowerbeds lined the outside of the windows and on my right was a long, wide corridor that branched out. Though the hall and corridors were cleaned and polish, I couldn’t help but feel this part of the mansion was deserted, abandoned. The light from the moon was snuffed out by large dark clouds, and suddenly a shiver ran down my spine and I felt like I was being watched, I clutched the worn strap of my backpack and slowly began walking backwards all the while watching the shadows around me. The eerie sense of this abandoned part of the mansion already gave me the creeps, and then as if some magical force wanted to take it to the next level, the sound of a music box began to play from the corridor. I turned fast on my heels and was ready to run for my life when the silhouette of a man leaning against the wall stopped me, I reached for the pocket knife at the side of my backpack when, as if on cue, the moonlight lit the hall around us again and saved the man from a bloody fate. I noticed his hair was damp and a white towel hung around his neck, he was wearing a white t-shirt with grey sweats. The man nodded to my hand that had grasped the pocket knife.  
  
        “You won’t need that,” He said then pushed himself off the wall and offered his hand. “I’m Zach, Zach Goode, one of the teachers at this school.” My hand dropped to my side. Good thing the moon came out or I would have seriously been in trouble.  
  
        “You’re Agent Goode’s…” The words trailed away as Zach– or, err, Mr. Goode began to laugh.  
  
        “Well, she’s technically known as Headmistress Goode here.” He laughed again as I felt my mouth hung open. “But I’m guessing she didn’t mention that part to you.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he pointed back to the hall where the sound of the music box continued to play.  
  
        “I thought for sure that would have gotten your curiosity.”  
  
        “The creepy music box?” I asked and he nodded. “Oh yeah, who wouldn’t follow the creepy music playing in an abandoned part of a huge mansion.” I said in a tone with a little too much sarcasm than I had intended but Mr. Goode only laughed it off.  
  
        “No, you’re right,” He said then cocked his head. “But come on,” He started walking toward the hall where the music box was coming from, my eyes stayed on his back as I pocketed the knife in my hoodie before following him down the hall where one door stood ajar and the sound of the music box grew louder and louder. I pushed open the door to see Mr. Goode standing in the middle of the crisp white room, turning about as he looked around, as if he was reminiscing memories from the room. Then I noticed a neatly made bed facing the two tall windows with black curtains parted in the middle framing the night sky, a black wall desk (with the music box sitting on top) propped open at the side and a closet to the left of me while a bathroom stood to my right.  
  
        “This room, this whole corridor is no longer in use,” Mr. Goode said, “It was for our returning students back when the school was being rebuilt. If you’d like, Ms. Blackburn, this could be your room.” Mr. Goode turned to look at me, a small smile on his face. I didn’t say anything as I looked around the room and Mr. Goode sighed.  
  
        “I’ve been in a similar situation as you, Ms. Blackburn.” I raised a brow as if to say _oh, really now?_ And Mr. Goode laughed a breathy laugh. “You feel as though you don’t belong? Even in this sea of crowded students and classmates. Sure, this isn’t home–”  
“I’ve never really had a home,” I whispered under my breath, interrupting him and wishing I hadn’t. I had an apartment, I had a roof over my head, food on my table (mostly take-out and microwaved frozen rice but still food was food), I had a place that I was grateful for shelter but it was anything but home. I felt the tips of my ears burn red when his eyes looked into mine, and he gave me a sad, almost knowing smile.  
  
        “Neither did I,” he said, “but I at least had a room for a while, even if it was temporary, it was mine in a way.” He gestured around the room and my eyes followed, then he continued. “Of course I can’t begin to fathom what you must be feeling after what has been requested of you, on that scale you and I are on different ends of the spectrum. I was born into this, a family business if you will call it. But you, on the other hand Ms. Blackburn, were suddenly thrust in it.” Mr. Goode’s gaze was firm and serious as he took a step toward me.  
  
        “Believe me when I say, you would not be here if the Headmistress _and_ the _entire faculty_ does not think you’re up for this challenge.” I opened my mouth to protest but Mr. Goode continued on as if he hadn’t notice, there was no urgency in his tone, he wasn’t trying to shove or force all this down on me, he was calm and confident as he spoke. “Ms. Blackburn, as spies we did our research, we studied you, and though I must admit you were one of our harder cases to track and gather information on, which in that by itself only strengthens our confidence in you, we absolutely believe you could do this.”  
  
        Needless to say I was speechless. I couldn’t find the words or strength to prove his point otherwise, though I must admit I was kind of proud of myself for giving even the CIA and their secret agents a hard time finding me, so I gestured to the room and said, “Was this yours?” Mr. Goode looked at me for a moment before he smiled.  
  
        “Kind of, my room was in this area but then they had to rebuild the academy after the fire.” I felt my mouth part into a small O as I thought back to the new look of the walls and floors, and the girl’s common room. I almost didn’t see the distant, silent look in his eyes as they lazily drifted around the room. Mr. Goode had seen the school with its hundred year old walls, walked down its hall and attended its classes, and came back with his wife to teach, and I had to wonder if I’d ever go back to the Four Suits, that is if Raz would take me back.  
  
        “I hope you would consider staying at this school, Ms. Blackburn. Do not take this lightly when I say that the Gallagher Academy does not often take in outsiders, much less an outsider with your caliber and with such little connection and background. So please, believe me when I say, I believe you are capable of whatever this school throws at you.” He said. I realized he was watching me the whole time, my eyes took in the room, and his hands were in the pockets of his sweatpants making his posture seemed relaxed as if he knew I wouldn’t put up a fight. He had said it with such ease and sincerity that I almost believed I could belong here, and I suppose he had sensed it too because then he said, “Oh, you’ll find your uniform in your closet.” Mr. Goode nodded to the closet at my left and then something struck me.  
  
        “How did you know I would–” I gestured to the music box on the desk, unable to find the words for what I’m trying to say. Run away? Accidentally wander down this abandoned area? But luckily Mr. Goode seemed to understand well at what I’m trying to say, at least I thought until he shrugged, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip and he pointed to himself.  
  
        “Spy.” He said and the smirk broke into a wide grin making the corner of his eyes crinkled. Mr. Goode walked past me, out the door and into the hall. “Tomorrow morning the Headmistress would like to see you in her office about your schedule.” I nodded as I set my backpack down on the bed.  
  
        “Oh, and Ms. Blackburn?” Mr. Goode stepped back into view, I turned around and he held up a finger. “Welcome to the Gallagher-Blackthorne Academy for the Exceptional Youth, I know you’ll make an exceptional Gallagher Girl.” Then he held up another finger and pointed at my pocket, “and I told you, you would not need that.  _Yet_.” He winked and disappeared behind the door as it clicked shut. I made one turn around the room, it wasn’t my small apartment room but it was mine and I felt myself smile a little before my eyes landed on the tarot card sticking out of the pocket of my backpack. I pulled the blue tarot card out and out fell another card where it landed face down on my bed, the back of the card was matte black, I picked up the card and turned it over. At two corners of the card, on opposite ends was the letter ‘A’ in bold black, and in the centre was a crescent moon stamped in black as well. I sat at the edge of the bed, holding both cards down at my lap.  
  
        I was  _The Moon_.  
  
        I was  _The Ace_.  
  
        I lifted my head and looked at the door where Mr. Goode disappeared behind, where the entire mansion slept while I sat in the moonlight. I am to be a  _Gallagher Girl_. Then I glanced over to my bag that sat opened, in the moonlight, with a few of its content out in the open, some of my clothes and the old, dented and worn metal box of tricks.  
  
        I was the girl that time forgot.


	2. Secrets, Secrets and more Secrets

I played with the coin-sized medallion in my hand, flipping and moving it across my fingers and making it disappear as I sat on my bed. I stared vacantly at the metal box I placed on the desk the night before, the lid of the tin box was propped on the side of the box, and on the side of the box was a pattern of silhouette circus people marching and dancing in a line all around the box and bordered with two red strips that lined the bottom and top. I knew all the contents inside that small box by heart, after all my whole life was in that box. I pulled my knees toward me and glanced out the windows across from me to see the sun was beginning to rise causing streaks of yellow and orange blending and fading in with the dark blue sky, I held up my wrist with my palm up and the medallion settled in the centre, I glanced down at the small, circular watch with a worn and faded border of gold that sat at the front of my wrist. It was nearly four in the morning.

        I ripped off the headphones in my ears and got up from my bed after a while and made my way to the white closet door, opening it I saw two of my sweaters hanging on the hangers, a jacket and the school uniform that consisted of a white blouse with the school crest on the side and a plaid skirt. I grabbed a purple towel sitting on top of the drawer inside the closet and opened the top drawer where I pulled out my undergarments, I began to reach for the second drawer where I was about grab my jeans and shirt but my hand hovered over the drawer for a moment, my eyes darted to the uniform, Scarlet did say today was the first day of school. It felt like forever debating with myself before I finally decided to take the uniform off the rack and headed to the opposite side of the room where the bathroom was. When I finally emerged from the bathroom, washed and clean, my hair damp from the shower and in my crisp, clean new uniform I stopped at my bed as I stared at a piece of paper that was folded neatly on top of my rumpled black bed sheets, with a little yellow note in the centre:

                                                                        Thought you might need this. Good luck.  
                                                                                                        - Z. Goode, your loving teacher

        I picked up the piece of paper, dropping my hand from the towel that I was using to dry my hair, and unfolded the piece of paper and saw it was a printed map of the school and around some of the rooms and the halls were names written in a neater and girly writing than Mr. Goode’s messy cursive writing. I looked at one of the square rooms with the name Headmistress’s Office in neat, black ink and noticed someone had taken the time to highlight (at least that’s what I’m guessing) the fastest routes to different parts of the school where (still guessing) I’m supposed to take my classes. After drying my hair and combing it out, I looked down at my watch it was close to 6:30 now so I slipped into my black boots and headed out the door.

        I scanned the map, following the highlighted path, and stopped in front of what I think was the Hall of History, at least that’s what it says on the map in black ink. Like all the other halls, the walls were a creamy white with lustrous gold patterns designing the top and sides, a glint caught the corner of my eyes and I walked up to the gleaming sword showcased in a glass case at the side of the hall, on the bottom in a gold plaque was a short commentary engraved about the sword. Above the glass-cased sword was a large portrait painted in Victorian colours and style of a woman standing tall in a large red dress, her head turned slightly to the side as her long brown hair flowed gracefully down her side, and at the bottom of the portrait, also in a gold plaque was the name Gillian Gallagher engraved in neat writing. There was also another portrait, the same size but different in style and colour as this one was more modern, it hung across from the portrait of the woman and this one was of a man, clean-shaved with short dark hair and gorgeous green eyes, he stood with his hands behind his back and his face solemn. Underneath the portrait, just like the woman’s, was a gold plaque with a name, Joseph Solomon.

        “Ms. Blackburn?” A familiar voice called out and I turned to see Agent– or do I call her Headmistress now? Mrs. Goode? I breathed out and walked toward Agent Goode, where she was leaning against the door frame, giving me a smile then she pushed herself off the door frame and walked into the room and I followed. “Are you finding it comfortable here?” She asked and I thought back to the room given to me and shrugged.

        “I guess so.” She smiled then gestured to the leather couch while pulling out a single piece of white paper from her desk drawer. I sat down on one end of the couch and Agent Goode sat down on the other, she crossed her leg over the other and handed me the piece of paper.

        “This is your class schedule.” I looked down at the timetable in my hand. “You will be taking Protection and Enforcement classes with your fellow classmates, along with Culture and Assimilation, and Advanced Languages.” Agent Goode pointed to the section of classes with their initials, P&E, C&A and AL. in their own boxes with the times and the teacher’s names under them.

        “As for Covert Operations,” Agent Goode continued and my eyes drifted to the name CoveOps, and the name under it took me by surprise. “You will be having special, one-on-one lessons with the CoveOps teacher,” Agent Goode smiled when I lifted my head and looked back her. “Mr. Goode.”

        “Also,” Agent Goode pointed to the last class on my sheet that read Dramatics, a smile stretched her lips as she looked at my timetable, “Every Saturday morning you will have private lessons in Dramatics with Mrs. McHenry-Winters. Do you have any questions, Ms. Blackburn?” Just one, I thought but didn’t ask, wondering if Agent Goode knew I was staying in the abandoned part of the mansion, but then thought if Mr. Goode gave me that room then Agent Goode probably knew as well so I shook my head and began making my way back to the door when Agent Goode called out again.

        “Oh, Ms. Blackburn,” I turned and managed to catch whatever it was that she threw at me. I opened my palm and saw a little flashlight, I clicked on the button and a dim, purple light shone. I looked back up at Agent Goode with my brow raised. “That is your welcome present. I hope you will find it useful.” She winked at me and turned back to her desk where she sat down and began writing. I nodded slowly, looking back down at the flashlight and its dim purple light that would be useless in the dark halls.

        ‘Thanks for the useless gift,’ I thought as I closed the door behind me, but I still shoved the small flashlight into the pocket of my skirt anyway. I pulled out the map and began making my way down the hall when I ran into something, or someone, and got knocked back but I felt an arm catch me before I fell. I looked up from the map and into a pair of dark chocolate brown eyes, I breathed in the fresh scent of soap and shampoo.

        “Hey, oh man. Sorry, are you okay?” He asked his hand now at the small of my back while the other ran through his short, dark hair. I stepped away and toward the hall.

        “Yeah, fine,” I mumbled and then quickly added, “thanks.” I glanced back up at him to see a small, amused smile on his lips. He reached out his hand.

        “I’m An–“

        “Andrew!” Agent Goode’s voice came from behind the closed door of her office. The boy, Andrew, looked back at the door, and then back at me. I began to turn and walk away when he called out.

        “Hey,” I glanced back at him. “See you around?” I expected him to turn back around when Agent Goode called his name again from her office but his eyes were glued on me.

        “Maybe,” I said and rushed out of the hall before he could say anything else.

          
        I turned a corner and to my clumsy surprise, I bumped into another person, heard the clattering sound of something being dropped and the girl in front of me dropped to ground onto her hands and knees, I knelt down beside her and helped her gather her equipment that had scattered on the floor. I looked at her from the corner of my eyes and saw a younger version of Agent Goode; the girl’s hair was the same light shade of brown as Agent Goode, but unlike Agent Goode her hair was cut just above her shoulders and her fair skin held some blemishes of acne scars just below her hair line.

        “I’m so sorry,” I said as I handed back the equipment to the girl, “are you okay?” I asked. The girl nodded, I smiled and she smiled back.

        “Persephone,” I said pointing to myself, “Blackburn.”

        “Morgan,” She said then looked down and her voice got quieter as she then added, “Goode.” I nodded, makes sense, I thought. Then I pointed to the equipment in her arms.

        “What are those for?” She looked at me, her face surprised then confused in a matter of seconds before she broke into a grin.

        “Want to see?” She asked. I followed Morgan down a series of halls and stairs before arriving at another part of the mansion that looked as abandoned as the corridor my room was in. Morgan pushed open a door with her back and led me into a dark room, she placed her stuff down and then flipped on the lights, In the centre of the small, almost empty room was a metal table with scraps and parts scattered about on the outer side of the table but in the middle was a lumpy object hidden under a dark blue cover. Morgan looked up at me, excitement gleamed in her eyes as she placed her hand on the cover and pulled it back revealing two small, round metal contraptions and in the middle of the contraptions were small black lenses. Morgan held up a finger as if to tell me to wait, she picked up one of the contraptions and pressed a couple of buttons on the side, soon a blue holographic blueprint of the contraption itself beamed up from the black lens, and she eagerly held up another finger, telling me to wait again as her thumb slid across something on the side of the contraption and the second contraption beamed the same blueprint. Morgan looked up at me, her mouth wide in a grin and her eyes gleamed. I circled the table, admiring the holographic blueprints.

        “That is so cool,” I breathed and waved a hand over the hologram, the blue lights engulfed my hand and the contraption in the blueprint spun with my touch, I turned to look at the second blueprint and it spun as well. Morgan giggled when I turned back at her.

        “The two devices are connected to one another, so if there’s a change in this blueprint,” She said as she placed a finger on the holographic contraption and swiped to the left where a chunk of the contraption was torn away and disappeared, the second hologram mimicked the first, “then the person on the other side with same blueprint can see the change too.” I gaped in wonder at the device in front of me and thought this device would have been very useful and handy for the Four Suits when we were planning our stage and performances. Morgan tucked her hair behind her ear, which at the tip was a bit red as she looked at me.

        “What do you think?” She asked. My gazed widened and a smile spread across my faces as I gestured to the holograms.

        “Uh, it’s obvious,” I said with a laugh. “This is awesome! It’s genius!” Morgan blushed harder as she said a sheepish thank you.

        “Does your mom know about this? Your dad?” I asked but Morgan shook her head.

        “No, I’m still working out the kinks.” She said as she tapped a button on the two devices, shutting them down and covering them with the dark blue cover again. We stood in silence for a moment, and I was beginning to wonder if she wanted me to leave but was too polite to ask me to do so when she turned to me.

        “You’re new, aren’t you?” Morgan asked.

        “That obvious, huh?” I laughed and Morgan smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

        “Kind of,” She said, “but I meant, you’re new to this, to all this spy stuff, aren't you?” I stood silent for a moment, unsure what I should say then Morgan quickly added, “Because you didn’t really react to… Um,” her voice trailed off, she blushed even more and then she pointed to herself.

        “To me being the Headmistress and the CoveOps teacher’s daughter.”

        “Well, I mean you do look a lot like Agent, um, Headmistress Goode.” I shrugged. “And it’s not really a big deal to be the daughter of a principle and a teacher.” I said then wished I hadn’t said that because the last part sounded a bit rude. Morgan’s eyes widened a bit then her brows furrowed.

        “You really don’t know,” she whispered quietly that I almost didn’t hear her.

        “Know what?” I asked. Morgan opened her mouth, thought for a moment and opened her mouth again.

        “My parents, they're famous for being one of the few students who helped take down the leaders of an inner terrorist group, the Circle of Cavan, back when they were seniors. It was a terrorist group full of double agents who had moles in all CIA, FBI, MI6, Interpol and those kinds of facilities, so I guess you can imagine how hard it was for them to take down the Circle since they didn’t even know if they could trust their own teammates, let alone their government.” I was politely nodding as Morgan continued, “So are you like Liz Sutton? Or, oh! Or are you like Macey McHenry, a descendant of Gilly’s family?” I didn’t even know who those people were, but I did know I was probably neither of them. After all, I was just a ghost to the world. I didn’t know what I should tell her and was relieved when Morgan shook her head and smiled.

        “You don’t have to tell me,” she said and I breathed, “We don’t really know each other that well and I didn't mean to pry.” Before I could say anything else, a low growl came from my stomach and I realized I hadn’t eaten at all yesterday, Morgan laughed.

        “Come on,” she said as she grabbed my wrist and led me out of the room and toward the hall. “You’re going to love the food here, the son and daughter of the previous chief, who used to cook for the White House, makes the most amazing food ever.” Morgan took me back toward the Hall of History where she led me down the stairs, and even before we arrived at the large room with both its double doors propped open, I could smell the delicious smell of waffles and I think I might have drooled. I followed Morgan into the room, weaving our way through the long tables and students eating and talking, making our way toward the waffle bar where she handed me a plate and plopped two warm, steaming waffles down on the plate, I grabbed a glass of orange juice and followed Morgan to a table where six people had already occupied. I stopped dead in my tracks, already recognizing four of the six faces who stared back at me. Cass was the first to break out into a smile as she waved at me.

        “Persephone! Come sit!” She said as Morgan took a seat next to the boy I almost ran over, she looked up at me and smiled while also waving me over. I walked to the end of the bench and took a seat next to Trena, across from Morgan and Andrew.

        “So that’s your name,” Andrew said with a smirk and raised a brow.

        “Oh, so the two of you already met?” Lindy asked as she looked from me to Andrew.

        “Yeah, this morning,” Andrew said. His mischievous smile grew and a glint in his eyes as he looked at me, “when she almost plowed me over in the hall.” I shrugged.

        “I guess someone needs to do more leg work and learn how to keep their balance.” I shot back with a smile. A chorus of oh’s sang from the group, the two guys sitting on his other side had their brows raised high on their foreheads as one of them slapped Andrew’s arm and from the corner of my eyes I saw Trena break out into a huge grin, everyone was looking at Andrew but Andrew was only looking at me.

        “And who was it that caught who from falling?” He said with his head cocked, his smile grew as he took on my challenge and I leaned forward, and felt a smirk tug on the corner of my lip.

        “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I said. Andrew raised a brow. “I won’t tell them what happened.” I leaned back and began cutting into my waffle. I saw Morgan cup her mouth and Trena covering her mouth with the back of her hand, I heard the friend beside him say, “I like her. She’s feisty.”  I stuck the waffle into my mouth and looked back up to see Andrew still looking at me, smiling.

        “I’m Tristan Newman,” the boy next to Andrew said. Tristan’s skin was a bit darker than Scarlet’s but he also held the strong accent that Scarlet had. “This is Thomas Ng.” He introduced the slightly skinny boy with short brown hair and glasses, Tristan draped an arm around Thomas’s shoulder while Thomas gave me a smile and bowed his head slightly before pushing his glasses up with his long, slim fingers that would be elegant and great for a pianist. I noticed Tristan and Thomas sat closer together than the rest, with their sides touching then Tristan dropped his hand from Thomas’s shoulder and rested it on his lower back, he then looked back at me and grinned.

        “So you’re–” Before he could finish his sentence, I choked on my orange juice as my eyes settled on the pigeon perched in front of one of the many long windows that surrounded the giant room. Andrew and the rest of the group turned to look at what I was looking at, but I knew they couldn’t see what I was seeing. I wiped my mouth with a napkin, broke a small piece from the bread on my plate and excused myself as I hastily got up from the bench and sped-walked out the room, pulling out the map and scanning the halls I found my way to the front door. I pushed the door open and walked to where I thought the grand hall was facing and soon found the window where the pigeon was sitting but now it was gone, from the corner of my eyes I saw Morgan and the others staring at me from their seats at their table. I looked around and saw a forest just behind a large pond and headed toward the trees for cover. I followed the path through the forest until I was sure I was far enough from prying eyes and took a detour into the labyrinth of trees, I sat down under one of the many trees and whistled the tune that Raz had trained his pigeon to respond to. I waited a moment and then heard the flap of wings and the coo of the pigeon as it stepped into view next to me, I reached for the small slip of paper tucked beside the pigeon’s foot and unrolled it where a single word was typed and printed:

                                                                                                                 Leaving?

        That was all the piece of paper said, no initials, nothing else but I knew exactly who sent me the message. I felt the paper between my fingers and knew instantly it was flash paper, and it wasn’t the thin tissue-like paper that’s easily lit. No, this piece of paper was slightly thicker and more robust, less likely to burst into flames. Raz always wrote his letters, plans and blueprints on flash paper, it made it easier to erase evidence as proven a couple of nights ago when I lit all the paper strewn in my room on fire.

        “Love letter?” I whipped my head to where the voice had come from and saw Andrew standing with his hands in his pocket, a gesture that felt too familiar. I didn’t even notice he had followed me all the way here. He was looking at me but he wasn’t smiling, his eyes darted to the slip in my hand and then to the pigeon that sat idly beside me, and I noticed he stood at a distant.

        “Yeah, if you’d call this a love letter,” I said as I held out my hand with the slip in between my fingers. Andrew stared at it before moving a step forward and taking the slip, still leaving a large amount of space between us. He looked down briefly before handing it back.

        “Where are you leaving to?” Andrew asked as he shoved his hand back into his pocket.

        “Here,” I said. My brows furrowed when his gaze met mine, his eyes narrowed at me and he took a step back. I opened my mouth to ask what’s wrong but he only wheeled around, not even looking back at me.

        “Okay,” he said to me, I watched his back as he disappeared into maze of trees. What was his problem? I shook my head and glanced back down at the slip and sighed heavily, the pigeon cooed again and I reached into the pocket of my skirt where I pulled out the piece of bread and fed the pigeon. Satisfied with its treat and having fulfilled its duty the pigeon flapped its wings and took off, flying back to Raz, back to the Four Suits and I watched as the pigeon disappeared through the trees.

 

        I was sitting in my room, playing with the medallion again when a knock came from my door and a familiar face popped through the crack of the door.

        “Ms. Blackburn, Headmistress would like to see you,” Mr. Goode said while holding the door open for me. I followed Mr. Goode back to the Hall of History and back to the Headmistress’s office. I stepped inside and heard the door click close, Mr. Goode made his way to Agent Goode’s desk where he sat on the corner of the desk and Agent Goode was already sitting in the chair behind her desk.

        “Andrew told me you got a message this morning?” Agent Goode asked as I walked over to her desk.

        “Wait, he told you?” I asked, confounded and a bit confused. What was the big deal? Then I thought back to the distant he placed between us, the look on his face when he saw me with the note. Oh, dags. Was he jealous? I felt the palms of my hand grow warm as my heart, to my surprise, skipped a beat.

        “May I see it?” Agent Goode asked her gaze impassive as she looked at me. I dug into the pocket of my skirt and fished out the slip and handed it her. Just like Andrew she glanced down briefly then back at me. “Is this all?” She asked and I nodded. I saw both the Goodes breath out what I think was a sigh of relief. 

        “What?” I crossed my arms and the Goodes laughed, it was a breathy, almost in relief kind of laugh. Then Agent Goode got serious as she looked at me, she clasped her hands together and rested them on her desk but it was Mr. Goode who answered.

        “Andrew thought you were a double agent.” I turned to Mr. Goode, who shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, and I realized where that gesture was becoming familiar. “That’s why he came to us. He thought you were communicating with your associates while inside our walls.” Oh, so he wasn't jealous, just cautious. I felt the tips of my ears burn as the realization washed over me. 

        “It’s not uncommon,” Agent Goode said, “these things happen, an agent turning or going rogue. That happens in this line of business.” Agent Goode and Mr. Goode shared a quick look between them. Then their attention snapped back on me as their eyes widened and brows furrowed, and I realized I had said the Circle of Cavan out loud. “How did you…” Agent Goode started.

        “Morgan,” I answered then shrugged. “She was surprised I didn’t react when she told me she was your daughter, so she figured I was new.”

        “Ms. Blackburn, you understand that what you’re going to do is classified, yes?” Agent Goode asked and I nodded, Agent Goode pressed her lips together. “Which means we should establish a cover, at the least.” She said but it was said more to herself than to anyone in the room, Agent Goode then glanced up at her husband and they both shared another look.

        “Rumors?” Mr. Goode said and Agent Goode nodded. Mr. Goode pushed himself off the desk and began walking toward the door. “I’ll call Tina.” And with that, he left the room.

        “We’ll create a cover from the rumors that will surface, but for now if anyone asks, you tell them it’s classified, understood?” I nodded and started heading back toward the door when Agent Goode stopped me again. “Oh, Ms. Blackburn, one more thing I want you to be cautious when talking to Taylor Vale, until we create a cover for you. He is the son of Tina Walters and he has, for better or worse, inherited Tina’s… curiosity.”

        “Taylor Vale? Is he–” I began to ask but Agent Goode only smiled and nodded.

        “Trena Vale’s brother. Luckily, Trena hasn’t inherited Tina’s ways.”

 

        Mr. Goode come back again later that evening to my room to bring me to the welcome-back dinner, something I was obviously unaware of and had little knowledge of what to do, but Mr. Goode assured me it will be a regular dinner, just with a lot more students. He left me to walk on my own through the doors as he turned back and walked the opposite direction, reaching the entrance of the door I heard Morgan call my name and found her sitting with the others, everyone was looking and waving me over except for Andrew who occupied his eyes with the basket of bread sitting the middle.

        "Guys, there are way more chairs at the front than there should be." Tristan pointed out as I sat down and all heads turned to the front. 

        "More teachers?" Cass guessed and before anyone could say anything else the doors to the Grand Hall opened, the room went unbelievably quiet as a group of adults walked in with Agent Goode leading and Mr. Goode just behind her.

        "Mom? Dad?" I heard the gasps and whispers from the seven people around me, my gaze followed theirs and I saw one familiar face, Grant's face as they passed us, some of the adults winked and smirked down at their children. I, along with everyone else in the room, watched as the adults took their seat except for Agent Goode, who walked up to the podium and adjusted the mic and everyone in the Grand Hall stood up, I followed a second late.

        "Women of Gallagher Academy, who comes here?" she asked. And I must admit I kind of jumped at the sudden chorus of every female voice as they spoke.

        "We are the sisters of Gillian." 

        "Men of Blackthorne Institution, who comes here?" Her voice carried through the room, and every boy in the room spoke in unison. From the corner of my eyes I watched as Andrew's voice emerged with the rest.

        "We are the brothers of Joseph." I saw a smile on Agent Goode's face as they spoke. 

        "Why do you come?" Agent Goode asked. 

        "To learn her skill. Honor her sword. And keep her secrets." The girls said.

        "To uphold his legacy. Honor his work. And keep his changes." The boys said after the girls.

        "To what end do you work?"

        "To the cause of justice and light." They all said in unison.

        "How long will you strive?"

        "For all the days of our lives." They finished and Agent Goode smiled as everyone sat down.

        "Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen," Agent Goode beamed another smile. "To our newest members," Agent Goode's eyes skimmed over me for a brief moment and then toward a bunch of smaller students sitting on the other side of the room, "welcome. Believe me when I say you would not be here if we did not think you could step up to the challenge. To our returning students, welcome back, it's another exciting and new year and I hope all of you will make the best of this year and learn as much as you can." Agent Goode glanced back at the table full of her colleagues before turning back to face the students, she smiled and for a moment I could have sworn her eyes were on me. "Thank you. Now please enjoy the rest of your evening." She stepped away from the podium and just as Agent Goode sat with her colleagues, the Grand Hall exploded with chatter and the clinking sound of tableware.

        I had just finished my dinner and desert, which Cass eagerly handed to me, swearing the crème brulee was always excellent, when I felt someone approach from behind me and heard both Morgan and Andrew exclaim "Mom!" I turned around. Agent Goode smiled at our table then rested her hand on my shoulder.

        "Ms. Blackburn, could you come with me for a moment?" She asked. I stood up and followed Agent Goode, I felt eyes on me as they followed me to the table up front where all the teachers sat. Agent Goode introduced me to everyone at the table, she then glanced at her husband, who nodded and half the people at the table stood up. I walked next to Agent Goode as we made our way out of the Grand Hall, voices lowered to whispers as everyone watched, I caught a glimpse of Andrew whose face showed confusion, a lot of confusion.

        "Ms. Blackburn I would like you to meet your Saturday instructor, Mrs. Macey McHenry-Winters," Agent Goode gestured to the super-model with long black glossy hair. Mrs. McHenry-Winters smiled as she crossed her long leg over the other and leaned back on the leather couch. I mumbled a hello before turning to Agent Goode.

        "Was that necessary? Pulling me away like that, spontaneously making an exit like that?" 

        "That will probably enforce the rumors," Mr. Goode shrugged, "depending on what Tina has already told her son." Before I could say another word, Agent Goode interrupted. 

        "Ms. Blackburn I want you to meet my fellow colleagues, who will be here and there from time to time to help you along with your lessons. This is Rebecca Newman, she will be the CoveOps teacher for the others when Zach is teaching you," Agent Goode gestured to the tall, lean woman dressed in a black suit and heels, Mrs. Newman smirked as she said a very thick British accented hello. "Dr. Elizabeth Ng, who is already the teacher for Research and Development, and Computing, will show you the basics of..." Agent Goode trailed off, trying to find the words until the small blonde woman spoke up from the group.

        "Hacking," Dr. Ng offered her voice carried a soft southern accent, Agent Goode turned to her and Dr. Ng shrugged, "that's basically what it is." 

        "Right," Agent Goode said slowly, "we don't know if you'll need it for your task but better safe than sorry." I nodded and looked at each and every one of my new teachers, then I turned to the two men, one of them was Grant, and noticed Agent Goode hadn't explained their role in my new life but Grant only held up his hands and chuckled. 

        "Oh no, Jonas and I only came back for the food." The tall, pale man beside Grant laughed, and I realized Thomas resembled Jonas very closely that Thomas could be the younger version of Jonas, and then figured Jonas was probably their father. 

        "So, Ms. Blackburn," Agent Goode said and I turned to look at her, "are you ready for this?" I took in my surroundings, looking at the faces of the adults who had no doubt, way more training in the spy business than I ever have and yet they all depended on me for this particular task. I mean, no pressure, right?

        I looked down at my clothes, and realized I had already given them my answer when I pulled on the new white blouse and zipped up the plaid skirt that morning.  I lifted my head up to look at the adults that needed a teenage girl- no, they didn't need a teenage girl, they already had half a school full of them. What they needed, I realized, was a ghost, an illusionist, an orphan without anything to lose, a girl that time had forgotten over and over again, so I took in a breath and when I looked Agent Goode in the eyes again, I found I meant it when I said:

        "Yes."


	3. An Ace and a Rose

I started making my way back to my room when I heard the shuffle of footsteps and murmur of voices as students were beginning to spill out of the Grand Hall and flood the rest of the school, I looked around and ducked into another hall with a classroom door open so I hid inside.  
  
        “No guys, she’s a legacy, I’m telling you!” I heard a voice say.  
  
        “I heard her parents were legends,” Another offered.  
  
        “Who are you talking about?” It was a voice I recognized, it was Trena’s voice.  
  
        “The new girl!”  
  
        “Persephone?” This time it was Andrew’s voice.  
  
        It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and already the rumors were flying here and there. The murmuring voices slowly faded as the students made their way back to their rooms and I waited 10 seconds before emerging from the dark room. My first mistake when emerging from the classroom was placing my confidence in finding my own room without the help of the map, my second mistake was not bringing a flashlight as I wandered, yet again, through the dark corridors of the mansion. I glanced down at my map and probably looked extremely silly spinning around the hall, seeing if anything was remotely similar to the names on the map. I was starting to have a hard time reading the map when I remembered the crappy flashlight Agent Goode gave me this morning. I reached into my skirt and pulled out the little plastic tube, I turned it on and almost dropped the map when it began to glow as I placed the light over it. New routes were highlighted in glow-in-the-dark ink and new names appeared. All the new names that glowed under the purple light were written in yet another different form of handwriting, this one less girly and not as neat but not as bad as Mr. Goode’s cursive, and all the names were the same:  _secret passageway_.  
  
        I finally found a room that matched with the room on the map and everything became clearer as I followed the map, the glowing highlighted route this time, and found myself standing in front of a ruby-coloured tapestry with a cold stone wall behind it, almost framing it. As I approached closer I realized it was a large family tree dating back to (I’m guessing), Gillian Gallagher as I thought back to the sword and saw her name printed neatly in cursive on one of the branches, then I wondered who was Joseph Solomon? I glanced back down at the map and held the purple light over the passageway I was near, on the map was a little drawing of a sword and I looked around but the only sword I could think of was the one in the Hall of History. I took a step closer to the tapestry, searching when a voice from behind me startled me.  
  
        “Behind the tapestry,” I turned around to see Andrew standing in the dark, his hands in the pocket of his pants. He walked toward me and stopped just inches from where I stood, reaching behind me he moved the tapestry aside and turned the small sword on the stone wall, I felt the heat of his body, smelt his scent of fresh soap and subtle cologne, and thought our bodies were a little too close than necessary as his eyes were on me. The stone wall in front of me opened up and I moved inside, glad to put some space between us, I wasn’t really surprised he followed just disappointed I wasn’t able to explore the passageway alone.  
  
        “You know,” He began after a while, “you’re not that hard to tail.”  
  
        “Uh-huh,” I mumbled as I took in the passageway but then I felt a strong grip around my wrist and I was whipped around, almost slamming me into the wall.  
  
        “You’re not trained as a spy, Blackburn.” His grip tightened around my wrist and his eyes hard as they glared at me. “So what’s up with the rumors?” I raised a brow.  
  
        “Well, for starters, they’re rumors.” I said, satisfied with the look on his face when he realized his question backfired.  
  
        “Then who are–” He began to say when I ripped my wrist from his grip, knocking an old torch down but instead of falling, the torch dipped and another secret passageway opened. Andrew and I looked at each other and he mumbled. “I didn’t know that was there.” I pushed passed him and entered the new passageway, the passageway was starting to grow darker and darker and I thought we might have to turn back unless we wanted to wander aimlessly in the dark when I saw thin slivers of light piercing through the dark. I peered into one of the cracks while Andrew took the crack above me, and I saw the gleaming sword that was displayed out in the Hall of History.  
  
        “Well, this is new,” he whispered against the crack. I began to straighten, forgetting he was behind me and I slammed my head into his jaw. I held the back of my head while he cupped his face and groaned.  
  
        “I am so sorry!” I whispered loudly, and wondered why I was whispering when no one could hear us at least that’s what I thought up until I heard the faint mumble of voices just further down the passageway.  
  
        “Your head is really hard,” Andrew groaned again and I grabbed the front of his shirt while shushing him. I think he might have been glaring at me but I continued to shush him as I narrowed my eyes down at the dark passageway in front of us.  
  
        “Listen,” I said and the both of us leaned forward to where the faint voices came from. I started down the passageway again and found a surprisingly clean bookcase against a section of the wall that was completely different from the rest of the passageway walls, this wall that framed the bookcase was entirely made of plaster. I found another crack in the plaster and peered through to find Agent Goode, Mr.Goode, Mr. and Mrs. Newman, Mrs. McHenry-Winters, and Mr. and Dr. Ng in Agent Goode’s office. This time Andrew moved to the crack on the other side of the bookcase as he peered through.  
  
        “Cammie,” Mrs. Newman said her voice was stern. “She’s only,”  
  
        “Sixteen,” Agent Goode finished for her, and I felt my stomach flip because I knew they were discussing about me, I risked a glance at Andrew but he was none the wiser as his gaze was glued to the crack. Agent Goode then continued, “I know, but Bex you know just as well as I do that she’s our only hope.”  
  
        “She’s only sixteen,” I heard Dr. Ng whisper and Mr. Goode turned his head.  
  
        “We know, Liz.”  
  
        “At fifteen, she pulled off something that should have been impossible for a fifteen year old,” Agent Goode said and I saw everyone turned their head at Agent Goode’s direction, I saw a smirk on Mr. Goode and Mrs. McHenry-Winter’s face and figured everyone else had the same look, I could practically hear Agent Goode roll her eyes. “It should have been impossible for a fifteen year old without training.” She rephrased herself. Then there was silence in the room, and it stretched on until Mrs. Newman spoke up again.  
  
        “How do you know she’s right for this?” I couldn’t see Agent Goode, but I did hear her footsteps getting closer and closer and I sucked in a breath.  
  
        “Oh, I know,” Agent Goode said. I felt the ground beneath me begin to move and heard Andrew curse. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him, I think he was about to jump to the far wall but it was too late, the bookcase had spun and we were revealed. Standing in front of the adults, we were busted. I looked at Agent Goode over Andrew’s shoulder and saw the smirk on her lips then she did a double-take and her eyes widened slightly.  
  
        “Andrew?” She said her tone carried shock. I heard Grant and Jonas laugh and saw the amusement on Mr. Goode and Mrs. Newman’s face, while Dr. Ng and Mrs. McHenry-Winters cupped their mouths but even with the cover of their hands I could see they were smiling. Everyone was amused except for Agent Goode who now had her fists on her hips as she gave Andrew a stern look.  
  
        “Andrew Goode, what are you doing here!” For the first time, I heard and saw the mother in Agent Goode as she gave her son a scolding look, and another realization that made the tips of my ears burn was the fact that Andrew’s arm was around my waist. I noticed his clean, white shirt was now rumpled and near his arm was a stain, two of his buttons were loose, revealing the skin of his chest, and I wondered when he had decided to unbutton his shirt and why, for whatever reason, until I remembered earlier I had grabbed him by his shirt. Andrew’s hair was a mess (a hot mess if I might add) and near his jawline was red, swelling from my head-butt. I thought if Andrew looked like a mess, I must have too and as I looked around the room of adults, I realized what this might have looked like in their eyes, and my ears burned even more.  
  
        “Do you think this is a Josh situation, or a Zach situation?” Mrs. McHenry-Winters asked as she looked at Mrs. Newman but it was Mr. Goode who spoke.  
  
        “Please ladies, Jimmy doesn’t even know about the secret passageways.” Agent Goode closed her eyes as she breathed out her nose.  
  
        “Very funny, Zach, that never gets old.” Agent Goode said it in a tone that said she didn’t find it funny, without looking at her husband, who was smirking in the background. “Andrew Goode,” Agent Goode began again but was interrupted by Andrew.  
  
        “I was just showing her around, you know, being her guide. Having fun, exploring,” he said though at the last part I doubted he knew what he was saying as he started leaning slightly to the side, looking at his father for help but Agent Goode stepped in, blocking Andrew's view.  
  
        “Your father won’t be helping you this time,”  
  
        “Sorry son,” Mr. Goode called out. Agent Goode looked from Andrew to me then back again, and she sighed pointing to the door.  
  
        “Go to bed, both of you.” We nodded gratefully and I was fully aware of Andrew's hand in mine as we rushed toward the door and I heard Agent Goode call out one more time, “Separately! Go to bed separately!” She emphasized and I heard laughter from her friends before their laughter was suddenly shut out as the door behind us closed, and I figured the room must have been soundproof. Andrew led me down the Hall of History, still holding my hand and I followed quietly. We kept walking until I realized where he was taking me, to the girl’s common room so I pulled my hand away and he turned around, confused.  
  
        “I’m staying somewhere else,” I told him, and he nodded.  
  
        “Okay, where are you staying then?”  
  
        “Why?” I asked. He shrugged.  
  
        “So I could walk you safely to your room,”  
  
        “Goode,” I crossed my arms and raised a brow, “that doesn’t work here.” I said and he finally cracked a smile. We stood in silence for a while, his hands in his pockets and mine rubbing my forearm.  
  
        “They were talking about you, weren’t they?” His voice was quiet when he asked his gaze down at his feet, and I responded with a soft yeah. He nodded slowly then looked at me again. “What did you do?” I thought back to what Agent Goode advised me and shrugged with one shoulder, giving him a half smile.  
  
        “That’s classified.” He breathed a short, soft laugh, like he’s heard it before and I suppose he probably has, with both his parents as spies because he nodded and didn’t ask any further. I took a step back, toward where my actual room was. “I should get going,” I turned around and began walking away when I stopped in my tracks and turned back around.  
  
        “Don’t follow me,” I said as sternly as I could while pointing at him and I saw another smile on his face, and for a moment I saw Andrew as a regular boy, a regular prep-school boy in his khaki pants and white t-shirt with his school's crest at the side, his hands in his pockets and a devilish smile on his face. Andrew nodded and rocked back on his heels. “Promise?”  
  
        “Promise,” Andrew laughed as he placed a hand over his heart and held up the other. “Blackthorne Boy honor.”  
  
        “Good,” I nodded then I turned and was about to bolt down the hall when his voice stopped me again.  
  
        “Blackburn! I’m sorry,” He said and I looked back at him, “for accusing you of being a double agent. My parents told me you weren’t, so I’m sorry.” I gave him nod and a quick smile before turning back around and ran down the hall, back to my room.  
   
   
        The next morning I woke up, washed up, got dressed and skimmed over my timetable once more. I pulled on my boots and swung on my backpack, and surprisingly felt like a normal girl, well as normal as I could be at a spy school with a magician’s background. I made my way to the Grand Hall and for the first time I noticed the large screen just overhead with words that read: “English – American”.  
  
        “Good morning, Persephone.” I saw Morgan walking towards me, I smiled and said good morning as we walked together though the double doors and I thought nothing of the tv screen above us again. I took my seat next to Lindy, who placed a waffle on the plate in front of me, I smiled and said thank you.  
  
        “Morning, Blackburn.” Andrew said as he plopped down onto the seat across from me.  
  
        “Morning, Goode. What brave soul gave you that?” I nodded to his chin where the red spot was now replaced with a slight purplish-blue bruise, I suppressed the smirk threatening to break on my lips, but Andrew did nothing to hide his. Before Andrew could say anything and before I could get the waffle into my mouth, another boy came and nearly pushed Andrew off the bench as he took the seat next to him. The boy had his elbows propped up on the table and he extended his hand with a sly smile, only to be wiped off when Andrew pushed back into his seat, not looking at the boy next to him as he reclaimed part of his seat, the boy gave Andrew a look before turning back to me and extended his hand again.  
  
        “Anyway, Taylor Vale,” I took his hand and gave it a firm grip, I opened my mouth to introduce myself but he held up a hand. “No need, honey. I already know who you are, Persephone Blackburn.” He placed emphasizes on ‘you’ as he pointed at me, then he picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half, all the while keeping his elbows propped up the table.  
  
        “Well, I know your name but not your story,” He continued then leaned forward and was about to say something else when I leaned forward too.  
  
        “And let’s keep it that way,” I plucked the other half of his bread from his hand and leaned back, buttering the bread and took a bite out of it, I saw a half smile on Andew’s lips and felt everyone watching. Taylor leaned back as well, amused and his mouth hung open in a smile as he lazily crossed his arms.  
  
        “Tricky,” He said and got up, but before he left he leaned forward again, “I like it.” Then his shoulders did a quick, perky bounce as his hand hung in the air. “Keeps things interesting,”  
  
        “I would like to apologize for my brother,” Trena said when her brother strutted off and I laughed.  
  
        “No, it’s cool.” I nodded to where Taylor walked off and said, “I like him.” I thought back to the sassy King of the Four Suits and almost laughed when Mrs. Newman walked to our table with Agent Goode.  
  
        “Nice hickey, sport.” Mrs. Newman said to Andrew, who spat his drink as I dropped my fork and choked. Agent Goode spun to Mrs. Newman who gave me a hard pat on the back.  
  
        “Bex!” Agent Goode exclaimed but Mrs. Newman shrugged then cocked a hip.  
  
        “Come on, Cam, don’t tell me you don’t think it’s a hickey,” Mrs. Newman raised a brow at her friend, and then winked at me and when all attention turned my way, eyes popping out of sockets, the devilish smirk on Mrs. Newman’s face grew.  
  
        “No!” Both Agent Goode and I declared, then Agent Goode sighed and turned to me but Mrs. Newman continued.  
  
        "Of course, Cammie here would know all about hickeys." I saw Morgan's face flush a deep red as she stared at her mother and Andrew massaging his temples with his head down, but I suspect he was just trying to avoid my general direction and everyone's stares because the tips of his ears were bright red. Before I could bend over to pick up the fork I dropped Agent Goode had a hand around my arm and pulled me up.          
  
        “Ms. Blackburn, there’s something we need to take care of, would you come with me for a moment?” And just like that Agent Goode swept me away from the group, with no further explanation just like last night. I was back in her office with Mr. Goode sitting at his usual seat on the corner of the desk and Dr. Ng stood behind Agent Goode’s desk with all sorts of equipment laid out.  
  
        “What’s this?” I asked as I approached the desk and looked at all the tools.  
  
        “You’re going to need access to the Sublevels,” Mr. Goode said as he reached over and took my wrist, holding up my hand, “and to access the Sublevels DNA samples are needed,”  
  
        “But you need to continue staying out of the system and off the grid,” Agent Goode finished her husband’s sentence and Mr. Goode let my hand down.  
  
        “And this is where I come in,” Dr. Ng smiled. From a glass container she pulled out two pairs of thin, flimsy almost transparent gloves and asked me to hold out both my hands. Dr. Ng carefully slipped on the tissue-like gloves and instantly the gloves blended in with my skin, I turned my hands, amazed at the merge of the gloves with my skin. Even looking closely at my hand one would not be able to tell where my skin ended and where the gloves started. Dr. Ng waved me over to her side as she pulled out a laptop and placed it on the desk, she then plugged in small, black box to the side of laptop and told me to place my palm on the box, the screen underneath my palm began to warm and I saw a green line slowly scanning down my prints. On the screen of Dr. Ng’s laptop the prints appeared and Dr. Ng began rapidly typing away on her keyboard.  
  
        “What have you heard from the rumors so far?” Mr. Goode asked as he watched the screen over Dr. Ng’s shoulders. I thought for a bit before answering, collecting all the whispers I’ve overheard.  
  
        “I heard one about me coming from a super-secret underground family of spies, which you know, apparently explains my name because according to some of the students, in a literal and figurative way, I rose from the depths of the underworld.”  I air quoted with my fingers at the last part and noticed Mr. Goode stifle a smirk then Agent Goode turned to her husband.  
  
        “What did you tell Tina?” Mr. Goode shrugged with his brows raised. I told them all the rumors I’ve heard, even the weird and outrageous ones, I mean really, disabling a bomb with chopsticks? Now that I think about it, that one might have been put out there because of my ethnicity. Or abandoning my own wedding and in that, indirectly rejecting the Prince of Greece, to save the president (really? People, I’m sixteen, when do I have the time for a wedding?) But none of them were even remotely close to my real story, and I realized even my real story was just as crazy and bizarre as all the rumored stories, maybe I was never really destined for a "normal" life, whatever normal was.  
  
        “At this academy your prints and retina will come up as Jane Cheng,” Dr. Ng said then handed me a small white container, “put these in your eyes.” I opened the container to see transparent contact lens, and once they were placed in my eye Dr. Ng held up what looked like a laser pointer and scanned my new retina. Then she handed me a small tube. “Synthetic blood, you’ll need that for the blood sample on the elevator.”  
  
        “As for your cover story, we could go with you are from two CIA agents–” Agent Goode began but I had to interrupt.  
  
        “I don’t think that idea will work, Andrew can tell I don’t have training, Morgan even figured I was new to all this spy stuff just from meeting me once.”  
  
        “Maybe we should just keep you a mystery, it seems to be working.” Mr. Goode suggested. We turned to Agent Goode who took in this consideration before finally agreeing. Then I heard the click of a laptop and  turned to Dr. Ng, who gave me a smile.  
  
        “You’re all set for access to the Sublevels.”  
   
  
        Everyone began packing their things as Madam Dabney was putting away the fine china and I walked out the door with Trena beside me, Lindy and Cass behind us and the boys following behind. Everyone began heading down one hall but I broke away and headed the opposite direction.  
  
        “Persephone, Countries of the World is this way.” Trena called out to me and I turned around.  
  
        “I have CoveOps,” I waved my schedule. “That’s what it says on my schedule,” then I turned and left hastily, they didn’t chase after me but I still felt their eyes on me as they watched me leave. I skeptically looked at the mirror, Mr. Goode had told me how to access the Sublevel elevators, but I couldn’t help but feel stupid just staring at my reflection in the mirror and worried that maybe the synthetic retina wasn’t recognizable.  
  
        “Come on,” I whispered as I placed my palm on the surface of the mirror and tried pushing it but a second later I felt the glass beneath my palm warm up, then the painting behind me flashed green in the eyes and the mirror slid open, revealing an elevator. I stepped in and heard the low rumble of gears as the elevator brought me down, then moments later I felt the elevator come to a stop but the door didn’t open. I was starting to panic when a small, silver tray popped out and a mechanical voice overhead boomed, asking for blood sample. I pulled out the tube of synthetic blood and placed in the tray, I heard a click after a moment and tried to pull the tube out but it was stuck.  
  
        “Oh, come on!” I yanked again and this time it came loose, the tray disappeared and I saw that it had placed a small, skin-toned bandage on the tube. “Oh, awh. That's cute.” I said as I admired the small bandage then the elevator doors finally opened and I stepped out into a futuristic-looking room with frosted glass and metal walls surrounding me. I made a mental note to bring a sweater next time as I walked through the halls and into the only room with its door propped open, I took a seat in one of the desks and dropped my bag onto the floor next to my desk. Moments later, Mr. Goode walked in, striding over to the desk across from me and leaned back.  
  
        “Close your eyes,” he said and I obeyed. “Now tell me, Ms. Blackburn, where do I wear my watch?”  
  
        “Left wrist,” I answered, there was short silence before Mr. Goode said, “Good.”  
  
        “What colour shoes am I wearing?”  
  
        “Black leather whole cut shoes,” I answered with my eyes still closed and I cocked my head slightly while my brows knitted together a little. “Honestly, why do you were those?” I heard Mr. Goode chuckle.  
  
        “Are you saying I’m not classy enough?”  
  
        “I’m saying you could do a whole lot better with oxford shoes.”  
  
        “Okay, back to our game,” Mr. Goode said and I straightened in my seat. “Name five of the books on the bookshelf in the right corner of this room.” He instructed, but I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know so I stayed silent.  
  
        “How many desks are in this room?” Again, I was silent. "What was written on the left side of the board?" Nothing, I had nothing to answer. “Okay, last question. How many cameras did you pass on your way to this room?” My mind zipped backward and dug into the back of my mind before I answered.  
  
        “Six, one next to the elevator, one next to the spiral stair case, two trained on the door four doors down from here, one at the corner outside and another one just above the door outside.” I said as I pointed to where the door was.  
  
        “Good, a little slow on the last one but good.” Mr. Goode praised and I couldn’t help feel a little proud I was already doing pretty well in this spy business.  
  
        “Open your eyes, Ms. Blackburn.” Mr. Goode ordered. I did and saw a half smile on his face that made me think of Andrew. “You’re good, Ms. Blackburn, I can tell you’ve trained yourself to notice a person’s belongings and where they are on a person, you’ve trained yourself to avoid security cameras and to not be seen but you haven’t trained yourself to notice your surroundings, not all of your surroundings.”  
  
        I thought back to all the times I would briefly watch a person, study them and wait for the right moment before picking their pockets, knowing exactly where their wallets were hidden, I knew how to distract a person while slipping off their rings, bracelets or necklaces off them without them being the wiser until they got home and realized their jewelry was gone. My mind raced back to the nights I had to sneak around Mr. Craw’s cameras and avoided tripping his silent alarms and porch lights. But Mr. Goode was right, I haven’t always been good at noticing my surroundings and I thought back to when Andrew was able to sneak up from behind me, and to last night when he found me in front of the tapestry, when he told me I was easy to tail.  
  
        “Ms. Blackburn," Mr. Goode called my attention back, "I want you to start noticing things.”   
   
  
        It’s only been a week since school started and I’m already bombarded with homework, the desk at the side of my room was no longer empty, instead large textbooks piled in the corners and floor and paper was strewn across the desk. I stood up from my chair and stretched, it was a Sunday evening and I was spending the time away doing homework. I looked over to the map of the school that sat open with the glow in the dark flashlight on top and thought of the many secret passageways that were still left undiscovered, so I picked up the map and headed out. I explored the different passageways, walked into spider-webs, tripped over the uneven grounds and at one point, nearly taking my head off with a low-hanging beam in one passageway, and once again I regretted not bringing a flashlight.  
  
        At some time I came across a passageway that led to a small, white round room with four windows lining one wall, underneath the windows was a curved bench, the white paint chipped revealing the light wood underneath, the seats lined with royal purple cushions and in front of the window seat was something else that was covered in a white sheet. I gripped the sheet and pulled it back, revealing a large black glossy piano, my hand grazed over the smooth surface of the piano. I pressed down on one of the white keys and a note sang, pressing my lips together I let my fingers hover over the strip of black and white keys and wondered if I still remembered. My question was answered as my memories took over and I began to play the piano, it was like riding a bike, once you’ve learnt it you never really forget how, especially when it has been part of most your life and was thought to be your future. As I played on, I found myself singing to the words I’ve never forgotten.  
  
 _There is no upper hand  
        I’m giving you mine  
        It doesn’t have to end up wasting your time  
        There’s things that I could say  
        But hear it my way  
        I want to let you know that it’s all okay_  
  
        I heard my voice crack at the end then the hot tears began rolling down my cheeks as I realized the second voice will never come, the voice that will never join in again, the voice that I will never hear call my name or tell me goodnight as they kissed my forehead. I felt my hands shake as my breathing came in harder and louder, I felt my heart twisting in my chest and my body trembled as I let the sobs take over. I was glad for the quiet and abandoned room, and I was even more grateful for the secret passageways because I knew I looked like a complete mess at this moment. Once my breathing slowed and I wiped away the tears that stuck to my cheek, I waited a while before heading back to my room, giving my red, puffy eyes some time to de-puff in case anyone saw me.  
  
        I quietly but quickly weaved through the passageways, emerging from one passageway door and quickly darting down the stairs to the hall where my room was. Once I got back I went straight to the bathroom and washed away all the dirt, spider-webs and tears in a nice hot shower, when I emerged from the bathroom I saw something (okay, someone) that almost made me stumble back and I wanted to kick myself when I didn’t notice the light in my room was on and the fact that someone had followed me, I felt ashamed for not noticing my surroundings and thought for sure Mr. Goode would have been disappointed in me.  
  
        It was Andrew, lying casually on my bed with my headphones on and his eyes closed as he rolled his head from side to side to whatever song he was listening to. When I stepped through the door he opened his eyes, a wicked smile crossed his lips. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.  
  
        “How did you find this place?” I asked, not moving from the door.  
  
        “Spy.” He said while pointing to himself and I rolled my eyes. Like father, like son I thought then he laughed and gave a real answer, “I followed you.”  
  
        “You promised you wouldn’t follow me to my room,” I reminded him of that night when he promised me in his Blackthorne Boy honor, but the devilish smile on his face only widened.  
  
        “I promised I wouldn’t follow you  _that_  night,” he countered, “this is a different night.” Andrew propped himself up on his elbows and looked around my room just as I crossed to my desk and plopped down on the chair.  
  
        “So this is where you’re staying,” he whispered then he sat up and swung his legs to the side of my bed.  
  
        “Yeah, your dad gave it to me,” I shrugged, “said he used to stay around here when he was a student here.” I looked around the room that I already made my home then my eyes settled on Andrew whose gaze was anywhere but on me. I bunched my lips to the side. “Why were you out this late in the evening?”  
  
        “Why were you?” He raised a brow as if to challenge me.  
  
        “I asked first,” I countered.  
  
        “Sunday supper with the family,” he shrugged then pushed himself further back onto my bed and leaned against my pillow, “it’s a family tradition. Dad cooks, mom makes the desert and Morgan and I eat.” He nodded to me, telling me it was my turn so I reached for the map and flashlight and threw it on the bed. Andrew took the map, unfolded it and used the flashlight on the map.  
  
        “So that’s how you found the passageway near the tapestry,” Andrew smiled down at the map then placed the map down onto the nightstand next to my bed. His eyes caught the box of tricks that sat open and fingered the box. “You’re into magic tricks?” And I couldn’t help smiling because he doesn’t even know the half of it. I pulled my chair closer just as he sat on the side of my bed and reached for the box of tricks, grabbing the medallion out from the tin box I turned in my seat and felt our knees touch.  
  
        “This one’s a simple one,” I bit the corner of my lip as it tugged up and showed the medallion to him, his knee pressed against mine he was grinning from ear to ear, looking genuinely excited and I have to admit, it was kind of cute. I straightened my back and did my sleight of hand magic trick, flipping the medallion from finger to finger, making it disappear occasionally then bringing it back. Then I took out the deck of cards and entertained him with the card tricks the Jack had taught me during our practices when the Four Suits got together. At one point I performed the snap change where I slipped two cards out from the deck, held it up for Andrew to see then with a quick flick of my wrist, pulling my middle finger back, the card changed, and to my ironic surprise the card I swapped to was an Ace. I thought of the irony that I should fling an Ace out and in front of his face, as if the fates wanted me to reveal my alter ego in the Four Suits, but of course Andrew remained blissfully ignorant.  
  
        “Impressive,” he was smiling the entire time. “You’re no amateur, are you? Are there any other tricks you can do that are not in the box?” I looked around the room, my lips bunched to the side then I turned back to him.  
  
        “Do you have any ping pong balls?”  
  
        Andrew and I ventured out into the dark hall, looking in the abandoned rooms and, from what Andrew has told me, the teacher’s old lounge before coming across a jar of ping pong balls inside one of the cabinets in the teacher’s lounge.  
  
        “Well, to be honest I didn’t think we’d actually find any.” He admitted. “I just wanted to go on a little Easter egg hunt with you.” I laughed as I reached in and pulled out the jar, we were about to head back when he stopped me and took the jar, checking to see if the ping pong balls were actual ping pong balls and not some sort of gas or bomb in disguise. When he handed it back to me he shrugged at the look on my face. “It happens.” Back at my room I pulled out two black inked pens and handed Andrew one.  
  
        “Make each ball different,” Andrew didn’t ask for further details, he nodded, took the pen and plucked a white ball out of the jar. We both sat in silence, making different markings on the ping pong balls with our knees touching, at first we were just numbering the balls but then Andrew started doodling and we got a little silly. After each ball was marked, or I guess decorated now, we dropped the ping pong balls back into the jar and I held it out for him. Andrew plucked a ball out, and I told him to look at it.  
  
        “I thought you already did this with the cards?”  
  
        “Shush, just look.” Andrew took a look at his ball, I held out my hand and when he placed the ball in my hand I saw the marking on the ball was a number 2. In my palm I switched Andrew’s ball for mine and held it up for him and I burst out laughing when I saw the illustration of a rose on the ball.  
  
        “A rose for the lovely beauty,” I said as I handed him the ball and Andrew plucked the ball from my fingers as one would hold a rose.  
  
        “Why thank you, my kind magician,” we both laughed. I took the ball back from him and examined the fine details of the rose.  
  
        “Wow,” I breathed, the details of the rose amazed me. “This is really well done, I didn’t know you could draw,” I saw Andrew shrug a shoulder. “Do you have any other drawings that I could see?” I asked as I placed the ball back at the top of the jar of ping pong balls.  
  
        “No, unfortunately at this school you can’t really find solid paper that won’t dissolve,” he said as he scratched the back of his neck. I gave him a questioning look. “Evapopaper,” Andrew said then pointed to my folded and crumpled schedule on my desk. “The content on evapopaper disappears when its wet.” He explained as I picked up my schedule, which by now I knew by heart, and dipped my finger into the glass of water on my desk and dropped a droplet of water on the ink and just as Andrew had said the ink disappeared along with the wet spot of the paper. I peered through the hole the droplet made and found it a bit amusing that they would have evapopaper while we had flash paper. My head whipped around to my homework and before I could utter the question, Andrew laughed.  
  
        “Yup, your homework’s on evapopaper.” I groaned. Andrew stood up and walked up behind me, peering over my shoulder at the papers scattered about my desk, a majority of my homework was from Advanced Languages. “How are you doing with your school work?” He asked with a nod to my desk and I thought of the classes I had; CoveOps was fine, so far I’ve been assigned to notice things and get used to the comm unit plugged in my ear, P&E was tiring but helpful in getting me into shape, C&A was relaxing and my absolute favourite class, Dramatics seems okay but I only had one class which was yesterdays with Macey (yes, she told me to call her that instead), the only class that’s really kicking my rear was Advanced Languages (I mean, 14 languages, really?!) so I told Andrew just that.  
  
        “If you want,” he stepped back and slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, he glanced at the floor before looking back at me. I could see the tips of his ears turning red. “I could help you with AL, just until you get the flow of it.” He quickly added at the end. I took his offer into consideration then nodded.  
  
        “Yeah, that would be great actually,” and that was how I got a really cute tutor to help me with the fourteen languages I had to learn at this school. Once Andrew left my room, I turned back to my desk, looked at all papers scattered about and eyed the glass of water that sat on top of it all. I took the glass of water and moved it to the nightstand beside my bed, my eyes caught the ball with the black inked rose and I plucked it out of the jar, turning it in front of me, a lazy half smile twitched at the corner of my lips as another irony ran through my mind. First the ace, and now the rose and I wondered if somewhere along the year would I somehow accidentally present him a moon.


	4. Solitude

“Perséphone! Votre français êtes aller de mieux en mieux.” Lindy teased as we sat down in the Grand Hall for breakfast and I smiled, thinking back to the evenings spent in my room, in the library surrounded by books, and occasionally in girls’ dorm with Lindy, Cass and Trena but Lindy was right though, my French has been getting better and that’s mostly because she’s been the one tutoring me. I glanced around at the four friends I‘ve made so far and felt a tickle in my stomach, they were my first female friends, aside from the Queen, but even within the Four Suits the stage names that we carry are our alter-egos, so in a way the Queen doesn’t truly count since I don’t even know her name, let alone her true identity and she’s no wiser of mine.  
  
        It started off with Andrew helping every evening after dinner (except Sundays because of the aforementioned family dinner tradition), then it expanded to the rest of his friends when I realized, two months into our evening sessions, that Andrew himself had his own homework to worry about but never made notice to mention to me and he never complained either. Andrew had a full course of classes that’s set to preparing him for the rest of his life outside in the real world. I had only the necessary classes to prepare me for the one mission expected of me.  
  
        “Le Portugais de Perséphone est mieux,” Andrew said as he sat down next to Lindy, a hint of tease in his eyes as he playfully elbowed her. Well, I wouldn’t say my Portuguese is better, but since it is Andrew who has been helping me in Portuguese, I felt rude saying otherwise.  
  
        “Non, Le Chinese de Persephone est meilleur que le Portugais de Persephone,” Tristan joined in, he winked at me and slid into the seat next to Andrew, forcing Andrew to scoot over. Well, Tristan wasn’t wrong we made faster progress in Chinese than any of the others, but that’s mostly because Chinese is my native tongue.  
  
        I felt someone slide into the seat next to mine and turned to see Morgan, who gave me a quick, shy smile before her gaze went down to the plate in front of her.  
  
        Something slipped into my hand as I was finishing my breakfast, I looked down and saw a small, neatly folded paper tucked between my fingers and palm, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Morgan had turned her face away. I tucked the note into pocket then heard rapid footsteps patting down our way and then passing our table.  
  
        “Hey sis, where’s the fire?” Tristan asked, though he was supposed to be speaking and practicing his French. Scarlet whipped around and came back to our table.  
  
        “Have any of you seen Julian?” Scarlet asked and I leaned slightly back to see if any of the teachers heard them speaking in English, luckily they didn’t seem to be paying close attention.  
  
        “The cute senior?” Tristan asked. I saw Thomas jerk his head up from his book, and a smile twitched on Tristan’s lip but he didn’t let it show. Thomas narrowed his eyes at Tristan and gave him a look.  
  
        “Yes, who else is working with me on the senior COW assignment?”  
  
        “Way to go, Scar,” Tristan winked at his sister and Scarlet rolled her eyes but Tristan continued, “are you two not done?”  
  
        “No, we are. We finished yesterday. I just wanted to go through somethings with him.” Scarlet explained but then another eye roll came when Tristan raised a brow, almost teasing Scarlet of her wanting to ‘go through somethings’. “You’re no help.”  
  
        “Doesn’t Julian always disappear from time to time?” Cass asked after Scarlet walked away. Everyone did a little shrug as they looked around each other. “Do you think he’ll become the next Chameleon?” Then all eyes turned to Andrew, who just raised a brow.  
  
        “Watch out, big bro,” Morgan said her voice teasing, “you’re going to have competition.” But Andrew only smirked and shrugged one shoulder.  
  
        “I like competition.” He said.  
  
        The three months I’ve been here, I’ve learnt that Agent Goode was once, and apparently still is, best known as the Chameleon, a code name she earned for herself when she was a Gallagher Girl and made herself a pavement artist who can blend into her surroundings. I took a glance at Andrew, who sat casually with his back slightly slouched, something Madam Dabney would be less than pleased with, and knew he would live up to his mother’s legacy. That’s to say Andrew was anything but plain, he wasn’t an eye-sore or stick out in any incredible way, he looked… ordinary, he wasn’t taller than the average male but he wasn’t shorter, nor was his build too large to stare or too petite to be disregarded. If I had my comparisons, I would say he reminded me of the Jack of the Four Suits, height-wise, personality-wise not so much. Where the Jack was spontaneous, Andrew was reserved but both, I can tell, have their own way of being cunning.  
  
        Just as I was starting to get up, Andrew looked up at me and asked, “You done?” I nodded and he stood up too. I gave him a quizzical look before heading toward the doors when Andrew fell into the steps next to mine.  
  
        “Where do you usually go after breakfast on Saturday?” He asked while we walked out from the hall underneath the grand stairs and turned up to the stairs together, my hand glided up the black banister while Andrew kept his in his pockets.  
  
        “Dramatics class,” I answered, “I have a class in the morning every Saturday.” Andrew gave me a curious look but turned when a bunch of eighth and ninth graders came jogging down the stairs, we both stepped aside, I felt Andrew’s hand at the small of my back, and waited for the crowd to pass.  
  
        “We don’t have a Dramatics class?” He said once the stairs were cleared again, although it sounded more like he was questioning himself while he watched the group run out the front doors, probably heading to the P&E barn.  
  
        “You don’t, it’s a class just for me.” But before he could question any further, I added, “Classified.” Andrew nodded, then slipped his hand back into his pocket, though he knew better than to ask any further I knew the questions were swarming in his mind, it seeped from his clothes and skin as he walked beside me.  
  
        “Andrew,” Macey gave Andrew a nod when he and I walked into the room that, as Macey has briefly told me on my first day with her, was the replica room where their suite used to be when Macey, Dr. Ng, Agent Goode and Mrs. Newman went to the Gallagher Academy together, back when it was a school just for girls and the mansion was smaller (or as small as a mansion can be without the new corridors and extensions) and much older. Andrew brought his fingers near his temple, tipping an imaginary hat as he bowed slightly.  
  
        “Mrs. Macey,” he said and Macey rolled her brilliant blue eyes, a smile threatening to escape her coral pink lips.  
  
        “You are so much like your father,” she said then ushered Andrew out of the room before closing the door and bringing out a pair of black heels from behind her. “You need learn to walk, run and fight in heels. It might not be necessary, but it’s better to expand to these skills than not to and potentially getting injured, or worse, killed because you don’t know how to kill in heels.” Macey explained as she handed me the heels. I took the heels, kicked off my boots and slipped on the shoes and walked across the room with good balance, and saw both Macey’s lips and brow quirked up.  
  
        “I know how to walk in them,” I said, thinking back to the days in the Four Suits when the King, very offended might I add, first found out I couldn’t walk in heels and forced me to practice in them for our performance. “Running and fighting, on the other hand…”  
  
        “Well, that’s where Bex and I come in,” Macey said then the door opened and in the doorway stood Mrs. Newman with her arms crossed and a devilish smile played on her lips.  
  
        “Mrs. Newman?” I said, astonished but Mrs. Newman frowned.  
  
        “Bex is fine, I prefer Bex,” she said with a flick of her wrist, waving away the formality, then the devilish smile came back and she cocked her head to the side, indicating that I should follow, as she walked away.  
  
        “Where are we going?” I asked while Macey ushered me out.  
  
        “P&E barn,” Bex shouted back without turning her head.  
  
        “You think I’m just going to let Bex throw you around on these floors?” Macey said with a raised brow.  
  
        “These heels will pierce the mats,” I tried though I don’t even know why, I should be grateful I was going to have a something to cushion my fall.  
  
        “Second floor, there’s hay you can fall back on.” Macey explained and I nodded, then remembering the note, I reached into the pocket of my skirt, slowing slightly and Macey, after a quick glance at the small note from the corner of her eyes, walked ahead and joined Bex’s side. I unfolded the paper and read the neat, cute writing that I’ve seen before on my Tagalog notes.  
  
                                                Tonight at 7, could you meet me at the third floor of the library?  
                                                                                                                                ~ Morgan  
   
  
        I was back in my room, giving my feet a well-deserved massage when the door to my room opened and Andrew leaned in, a smile on his face as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.  
  
        “How was Dramatics?” He asked and I fell back on my bed with a plop. Andrew walked over and sat down next to me so that not only were our knees touching but our entire thighs were mushed close together. I felt myself stiffen as he looked over his shoulder at me, waiting for an answer.  
  
        “Kicked my ass,” I managed to say and he smiled, I felt I had to keep talking or I just might lose my voice all together under his gaze so I continued, “well, technically, it kicked my stomach and took me out from under my feet.” The smile stayed on his face as he bit the bottom corner of his lip and laughed softly. I was very well aware of the thin layer of clothes between us, especially with my bare thigh pressed against the thin fabric of his khaki, but Andrew, on the other hand, seemed less aware or if he was, he didn’t show it because then he laid down next to me, so that our entire sides were touching and I wondered if it was getting a little warmer in my room, and if he could hear the loud beat of my pounding heart.  
  
        “I heard you were up against Bex,” Andrew said to the ceiling, his voice was quiet and deep in his throat, and I was relieved he didn’t turn his head. “I’m surprised you escaped with your life.” He joked and I laughed lightly, trying not to swallow too loudly.  
  
        “I’m pretty sure she was going easy on me,” I made the mistake of turning my head because then Andrew turned his and our gazes met, and I felt my breath catch. This was the closest I’ve ever been to Andrew, body and face-wise, and I could see all the little details that made his face as… well as Andrew’s face; a small nick dented the skin just above his dark brows, the narrow slope of his nose, the slight redness of his thin lips, the sharp _V_ of his chin. From the corner of my eyes I saw his hand move, but before he could do anything I abruptly sat up and looked back at him. “So what brings you here?” I asked, thankful for the brief air I got before Andrew sat up too and scratched the nape of his neck.  
  
        My eyes couldn’t help tracing over the slight arch of his back as he slouched, or noticing how the sleeves to his uniform hugged his arms and the way he wore the sleeves rolled up, revealing the skin of his forearms, where, now that I’m close enough to notice, on the outside of his right forearm there was a long, faint white line, a piece of his past showing through the present him. I wondered what had made that scar on his arm and near his brows that wasn’t worth mentioning, but then I remembered I had many scars of my own that will probably never see the light of day. Everyone had their secrets, and sometimes secrets, whether in or out, comes with scars and scars, after all, were scabs, and scabs weren’t meant to be picked at.  
  
        “Tomorrow the whole school gets to go into town,” Andrew’s voice brought me back from the path behind my mind.  
  
        “Oh.”  
  
        “And I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie or something.” Before I could reply he quickly added, “of course the others will be there too.” Andrew’s gaze was down at our pressed knees, the tips of his ears were pink, and I found myself smiling.  
  
         “Yeah, I’d like that.” Andrew’s gaze was back on me, but only for a brief second before five people burst into my room and Andrew shot up from my bed, turning to his friends. I followed after.  
  
        “Guys!” Lindy squealed, “Look!” she held up a black and white flyer and my stomach did a flip as I read the words bolded in white text against the black flyer:  
 **  
THE FOUR SUITS**  
                                                                                                       in Roseville, Virginia  
                                                                    Preforming on NOVEMBER 16 @ the Angela Stevenson auditorium  
                                                                                                   Evening show ONLY: 8:00pm  
  
        Underneath the informative yet completely vague words were three white cards fanned out, each card with a J, K and Q in black and on the bottom stood three white silhouettes of the members under their respective cards. The silhouettes were simple, yet displayed the trademarks of each member and my eyes skimmed through all three, remembering how each of them looked in person.  
  
        Under the J was a white silhouette of a man with a black vest and a black mask around his mouth, his hand merged with the white frays of his hair as his head bowed slightly, as if tipping it like a gentleman would tip his hat. Next to the man was another who stood under the K, but instead of wearing a mask around his mouth, he wore a mask that covered his eyes and the left side of his face as it curved down, just above where his mouth should be, he wore a crown above his head with a black tie instead of a vest. Next to that man was a white silhouette of a woman and she, too, wore a crown and a knee-length dress, and on her face was a mask that mirrored the man’s mask next her, except it covered her right side of her face. The three silhouettes stood perfectly centered in the middle: the Jack, the King, the Queen and my eyes drifted to the spot next to the Queen, where one member was missing, the Ace. My mind raced back to our previous show, the show I didn’t know that would be my last performance with the Four Suits, and given the foresight I might have relished my last day with them, but at that time it was like any other day.  
  
 _Before the show, I helped the Queen into her simple black, knee-length dress and laced up the back, I smoothed out the dress from her waist down and saw the glimmer of the gold thread that looped into a fancy Q just at the bottom of her dress. The King had just emerged from one of the red velvet curtains of the changing rooms, he shrugged on the black suit and buttoned it over the tie that hung around his neck, he certainly looked like_ a _King, but not_ the _King I’ve come to know during our rehearsals, and I thought perhaps the King, too, had many other masks aside from the Four Suits. On the side of his left arm was the letter K written in fancy gold thread. Both the King and Queen adjusted their masks, unknowingly of their simultaneous action and I tried not to laugh as to point out their mirroring actions because on the second day of our odd little assembly, the King and Queen had declared somewhat of an opposition to one another.  
_  
 _The King had a simple black and white mask that covered his eyes and the left side of his face just above his lips, while the Queen had the same mask but in laces that covered her right side instead. Just as I slipped on my short black leather gloves, the Jack appeared, leaning into the room with his hands on the side of the door frames to support his weight and I assumed he was grinning from the way his eyes smiled because his mouth was hidden away with a black mouth mask. From the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt, I could see the restraints of his arms as they pushed back his weight against gravity. The King crossed the room to the plump couch in front of the fireplace and tossed both the Jack and I, our jackets – the Jack’s vest, my short sleeved jacket – and we slipped into our clothes with our trademarks on the sides, both in gold thread as well (the Jack’s J displayed on the left of his chest, while my A was on the right of my chest).  
_  
 _“Ready?” The Jack asked, his voice muffled slightly but not completely by the mouth mask, after we had walked to the small round marble table at the side of the room. The King reached into the inside pocket of his suit and held out a blue tarot card._  
 _  
“Judgement,” The King’s voice was deep and matter-of-fact as he spoke while holding up his tarot card, at the bottom of the card was the word_ Judgement _in bold letters, “Judgement, Rebirth, Inner Calling, Absolution.” The King cited and then the Queen took out her blue tarot card.  
_  
 _“Justice,” The Queen said in her honeyed voice as she held up her card, “Justice, Responsibility, Decision, Cause and Effect.”_  
 _  
“The Hanged Man,” The Jack spoke, his voice silvery and he, too, held up his card and cited, “Letting Go, Reversal, Suspension, Sacrifice.”_  
 _  
“The Moon,” I said and just like all the others I held up my card with_ The Moon _in bold letters as I cited, “Fear, Illusion, Imagination, Bewilderment.”  
_  
 _“_ Solitude before the Four _,” the same words echoed in four different tones as we placed our cards down in the middle of the table. I glanced up at the mirror across from me, settled between the Jack and the King, and saw a girl with raven black hair that almost merged with her black jacket, the gold thread of her trademark just peeking through. Her dark brown eyes were covered by a fancy black eye mask. I was no longer Persephone Blackburn then, I was the Ace.  
_  
 _“All of you do know that saying is kind of depressing,” the Jack said as we made our way to the doors.  
_  
 _“And yet, oh so true,” the King replied.  
_  
        “The Four Suits are in town! They’re performing tonight!” Lindy and Cass both squealed, and for the second time that day, within minutes of each other, I had wandered back to the path behind my mind.  
  
        “Andrew, we gotta go.” Tristan said, equally as pumped and excited as Lindy and Cass.  
  
        “What happened to their fourth member?” Andrew nodded to the flyer and I tried hard not to move or draw attention to myself.  
  
        “I think the Ace is out, but they’re still keeping the name, so maybe they’re just looking for another Ace?” Trena offered.  
  
        Oh, if only they knew.  
  
“So, Andrew?” Thomas stepped forward, gesturing to the flyer, looking as eager as I have ever seen him. “Let’s go.” Thomas Ng, as far as I’ve seen, is the most solemn person I have met, with the occasional twitch of a smile that peaks through but most of the time when I see him, it’s always with his nose in a book or in his notes and sometimes that’s interrupted with the need to throw a look or two at Tristan.     
  
        “Guys, there’s no way my mom’s going to let us out. You know we’re not allowed outside the gates.” Andrew said and everyone raised their brows at him, Trena and Tristan crossed their arms, all of them challenging him. Andrew swung his head back with his eyes closed, exposing his throat to the light and I couldn’t help looking at his Adam’s apple and notice how… attractive he was then. Honestly, what makes guys and their Adam’s apple so attractive? And as if that sight of Andrew wasn’t enough, he just had to make a deep sound in his throat that was mixed between a groan and moan. Attempting to distract myself, I glanced around the group to see victorious grins stretching across each face, knowing they had won this battle. My eyes flicked back to Andrew and caught him looking at me from the corner of his eye.  
  
        “Fine,” He said, flinging his head back to face everyone, “there’s one passageway I know that can lead us out the back.” Lindy and Cass squealed as they hugged Andrew then darted out the room. Tristan smooshed Andrew’s cheek with his lips, forcing Andrew to lean into Trena’s fist as she punched his arm and Thomas… rubbed his back before hooking an arm around Tristan’s stomach and dragging him away with Trena behind. Somewhere through the whole scene, Andrew had his hands back in his pockets and he turned his attention to me now that we were alone again.  
  
        “Care to go, Ms. Magician?” Andrew asked with his lips quirked up, he tapped the floor with the tip of his shoe as he looked at me. A part of me wanted to say yes and go out with everyone, to enjoy the night out and be just a little normal if allowed, but another part of me also knew I shouldn’t. No, I _couldn’t_ because a part of me knew I couldn’t just _sit_ in the audience and watch from that side, to just look from the outside in. I knew I would long then I would want, and wanting, right now, was dangerous to the mission, it was dangerous for the Goodes. So I bit the bottom of my lips until they hurt, and gave Andrew my most apologetic smile as I spewed out an excuse with the most convincing tone and face I could muster from my lessons in Dramatics, which seemed to pay off as Andrew nodded and didn’t pester me further (thank you, Macey).  
  
   
        I pushed open one of the frosted double doors to the library and made my way past the front desk that sat cozily in between two white stairways curving upward, but the front desk was empty, as always because the real adventure was upstairs, so I made my way up the soft, carpet-padded stairs. On the first floor, in the centre of the library was a tall, large in diameter tower where if one were to step through the tall archway (with high enough clearance, which seems to be the sophomores and plus) and into the tower, one would find themselves surrounded by a maze of shelves, stairs and books, more delicate and historic books too sensitive to be out in the outer shelves in the library. In the tower, it was a maze of wide tunnels that connected to the higher grounds of the library. Around the outside of the tower, sat couches for lounging, and long and round tables for studying, at the side of the round walls were shelves upon shelves of more sturdier books lined all around and other stairs leading up to higher floors with more books and more areas to lounge about or study.  
  
        I made my way to the side of the tower, where a glass elevator sat and stepped in. I pulled the shiny lever at the side to the number _3_ and watched as the elevator took me up, passing through the maze of the tunnels that branched out and connected to the outer walls, I watched as students and rows of books rolled passed me until I reached the top floor. The third floor of the library was definitely one of my favourite places to be, I didn’t even need to step out of the elevator to enjoy the view above me, a glass dome filled the entire roof, allowing for peaceful stargazing as some areas on the floors of the third floor had couches and cushions settled into the ground, off to the side a modest fire was dancing in the stone fireplace.  
  
        I searched around for Morgan and found a small figure sitting at one of the benches that curved against where the dome met the wall. Morgan was leaning against the glass of the dome, looking out over the lake that sat behind the school with a forest of orange and red surrounding it, fall was here and winter was approaching. I quietly made my way over to her and sat down on the cushioned seat of the bench, looking out over the lake I could see the shimmering of the water under the light of the crescent moon above.  
“I think, when I graduate, I’m going to miss the library to most,” Morgan’s voice was quiet, and I thought she might start crying but when I took a glance at her and saw her smiling softly down at the lake, I nodded and smiled too.  
  
        “Yeah,” I said softly as I watched the slow, soft ebb and flow of the lake’s water under the light of the crescent moon. The library, especially the third floor, was a breathtaking and exciting experience but it was too exposed. I felt too many people knew of its existence and preferred an area that was smaller, cozier and less known. I thought back to the round room I found in my little passageway journey, with the four windows that faced the same lake I was looking down at right now, and my mind drifted to the piano stored in that room, waiting to be played again by hands that have found them in solitude, blissfully unaware its presences was a ghost to this school.  
  
        “So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked, shifting my body so I was leaning against the glass with my back to the lake and my attention turned to Morgan. Morgan shifted shyly in her seat, pulling her legs closer to her then tucking her hair behind her ears.  
  
        “Could you…” Morgan began her voice was so quiet and muffled by her knee that I had to lean in to hear her, but then something must have snapped in her mind because she quickly straightened herself and sat cross-legged instead. “Could you teach me some of your magic tricks?”  
  
        I found myself lucky to have had the glass wall behind me because I was definitely not expecting that. I think I may have been gaping at her because Morgan began playing with her thumbs, her eyes were everywhere but on me, and she blushed furiously as she weakly mumbled, “Or not,”  
  
        I blinked myself out of stupefaction, and apologized for being rude before adding, “No, yeah I would love to teach you… but how did you know?” I asked and was not expecting Morgan to smile mischievously before shrugging and pulling her legs back toward her chest. She rested her chin on her knees before another smile broke across her lips.  
  
        “My brother talks about you,” she said, the innocent smile turning back to a devilish one, “well, not often in front of Mom and Dad, but when they’re in the kitchen together, Andrew would talk about you. _A lot._ ” Morgan’s eyes widened slightly as she emphasized ‘a lot’, and then a grin stretched her lips as she giggled. Unable to look at her and being painfully aware of the warm tips of my ears and the heat rising to my face, I pulled my legs closer to me and buried my face. I heard Morgan giggle again, so I reached out and gently pushed her away that made her giggle even more. I rolled my eyes, and couldn’t help the foolish smile from breaking across my lips before pushing myself back into the glass wall, and agreeing to teach her some magic tricks.  
  
        “What’s wrong?” I asked after watching her enthusiastic smile dwindle as she began tapping her chin on her knees. Morgan’s eyes met mine and I realized, though they were siblings, the brother and sister had different eye colours. Morgan’s eyes weren’t the same as Andrew’s, whose was a warm chocolate brown, instead Morgan’s was a dark forest green, and I wondered if Mr. Goode’s eyes were a dark green. Morgan shrugged after a moment, her hands lightly rubbed her arms as she began to rock back and forth, and her lips bunched to the side.  
  
        “Do you think my parents love me? I mean, are they proud of me?” Morgan asked after a moment, her voice cracking slightly as she looked back up at me, her dark eyes searching earnestly into mine. I felt the corner of my lip twitch up, the words were at the tip of my tongue but I knew I couldn’t say my thoughts.  
 _  
If they didn’t then I wouldn’t be here_.  
  
        Instead I said softly, “of course they love you, they have every right to be proud of you.” But Morgan just shrugged and shook her head a little.  
  
        “I’m not– I’m not the next Chameleon like Andrew, I’m nothing like my older brother, Matthew. I’m not cut out for field work. I can’t be the spy everyone expects me to be.”  
  
        “Morgan, I don’t think your parents are expecting you to be exactly like your brothers,” I began to say but Morgan shook her head.  
  
        “There are expectations from everyone else. I’m one of the legacies of two secret agents who stopped World War III from happening, I’m the grandchild of the Morgans and Joseph Solomon is my grandfather, and–” Morgan stopped, she was not one to brag and I knew that very well, because nothing in her tone told me she wanted all this. So I knew Morgan wasn’t looking for attention when her breaths came in heavy and her eyes glossy as tears lined the bottom, threatening to spew, and I think, better than anyone, she needed to be listened to. I saw her fingers digging into the sleeves of her uniform, her jaw clenched and then Morgan’s eyes became glassy, distant in thought before they returned back to me, an almost empty expression, her voice cracked as she said ever so quietly, “I’m scared,”  
  
        Without thinking, I reached over and pulled Morgan into my arms, allowing her weight to lean against me as I stroked her hair, under my arms I felt Morgan tremble and heard soft hiccups as she turned her face into my shoulder and cried.  
  
        “Shh, it’s okay to be scared,” I whispered into her hair, remembering the words I wanted to hear for so long, “it’s okay to cry,” I closed my eyes, resting my cheek against Morgan’s hair.  
  
 _“But I’m scared,”  
_  
        “Tell me what you’re scared of,” I said softly, stroking her hair. Morgan’s voice was quiet and muffled as she spoke.  
  
 _“Shut up!” The slap had stunned her silent for a moment but then she burst out crying and wailing even more, holding a small hand up to her red cheek that stung. “I said shut up!” Another hit came but before another sound could escape her lips, she was dragged up by the front of her shirt.  
_  
        “I’m scared of the expectations. What if I’m not as good as everyone wants me to be? What if I disappoint my parents? I’m scared of being out in the field and messing up. One mess up can cost the life of another, and I– I don’t know if I want to a field agent.” Morgan buried her face into the palms of her hands.  
  
 _“If I hear you cry one more time, I’ll smash your head between those doors, got it?”  
_  
        “It’s okay to cry,” I said again as I gently pulled her hands away and leaned into view, so her eyes caught mine, “it’s okay to be uncertain.” I tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek.  
  
        “So you’re not like your brothers, and you are definitely not your parents or your grandparents because, Morgan, you are you.” I stared firmly into her eyes, my hands held tightly on to hers, making sure she knew my words were certain as I continued, “The world doesn’t need another Agent Goode or Mr. Goode, or Joseph Solomon,” – whoever he was – “the world needs a Morgan Goode, do you understand?” Morgan nodded silently, pulling back she wiped her eyes and I gently rubbed her back.  
  
        “Thanks, Persephone, for listening,” Morgan said sheepishly after she had taken a large breath in and allowed her breathing to slow. I leaned in, kissing the side of her temple and felt her smile, and then Morgan said something I never knew I wanted to hear, “I’m glad the world has a Persephone Blackburn,” I watched as she looked up at me, smiling softly, I stroked her hair once more before looking down at my watch.  
  
        “It’s half past seven, you should get ready for tonight’s show,” I said as I stood up. Morgan rubbed her eyes then waved a hand.  
“I think I’ll stay here for a bit, I don’t want to go around looking like this,” she said gesturing to her red eyes. I nodded an okay and bent down to give her a hug before heading down the elevator and out the front door.  
   
  
        “We are _not bugging_ Persephone’s room!” The voice hissed. I stopped at the sound of my name and pressed myself against the wall, the voice sounded close, close enough that if I had turned the corner I would have ran into them. “Are you guys out of your minds?” My heart thumped against my chest and in my ears, I think it had less to do with my eavesdropping and more to do with knowing who the voice belonged to.  
  
        “Besides, what are you guys expecting to get out of bugging her room? She lives alone,” Andrew continued and then quickly added, “and before you even _suggest_ it, we are not planting cameras in her room.”  
  
        “Andrew, aren’t you the least bit curious about her?” Another voice came in a whisper and I recognized the soft southern accent that was similar to Dr. Ng’s, it was Cass’s voice.  
  
        “For all we know, _she_ could be a honeypot.” Lindy’s voice joined, and I wondered if all six of them were there. I heard the anger and displeasure in Andrew’s tone as he jumped to my defense, though I must admit I hadn’t the slightest of what a ‘honeypot’ meant but from the tone of Andrew’s voice, it must have been implied as a synonym for _insulting_ , or such.  
  
        “She’s definitely not! How could you even think–”  
  
        “But Andrew, _she_ –“  
  
        “ _She_ has a name!” I jumped at the sudden anger in Andrew’s raised voice, and then more quietly but not calmly, he steadily said, “And her name is Persephone,” No one said anything afterwards, I was starting to think they were gone when Tristan’s voice suggested what Andrew had assumed on my first day, but Andrew denied it, “My parents told me Persephone’s not a double agent,”  
  
        “Your parents…” The next voice was soft and quiet but I recognized it as Trena’s, and I realized through all of it, Trena was starting to speak now. There was a long, straining silence before Andrew said, “What? What is it?”  
  
        “It’s…” Trena began with a hint of hesitation weaved into her tone. I didn’t think hesitation was in Trena’s character as she was one to stride in with certainty, her actions and thoughts resolute. Trena as I saw was the sensible one, along with Andrew, out of the seven of them. So when Trena continued, I wondered if she truly believed what her thoughts led her to say.  
  
        “It’s awfully convenient that she– that Persephone is rather close to the Goode family,”  
  
        There was no argument against it, but no agreement either. They were silent. Andrew was silent. Then, after what felt like eternity, there were soft taps of shoes against the marble floor that filled the silence, whoever it was, was walking the opposite direction before they stopped.  
  
        “It’s nearly eight,” was all Andrew had uttered before continuing, his footsteps becoming fainter and farther as he walked away. A moment later the others followed and they were gone, and only then did I realize I had a death grip on my skirt, I slowly released my grip, feeling the creaks of the bones in my finger as they did so, my eyes were glued to the marble floor beneath me, staring at the faint blur of my reflection.  
  
        Of course they had every right to question my nature. After all, as Agent Goode had told me before, in this line of business there are some who turn, and given my clandestine story and background, I don’t blame them, and I know I shouldn’t but that still doesn’t stop the feeling of hurt that I felt tight in my chest. They were being cautious, they were doing what their classes taught them, thinking in the mind of a spy, and of a friend.  
  
 _A friend_ , in that I’m certain of now, is something I would never come across in their eyes, not unless I tell them everything, but given the circumstances I highly doubt that day will ever come, and I realized my thoughts this morning were only wishful thinking. They didn’t know who I was, not the Queen, not the girls. Not Morgan. Not Andrew. The Ace was an alter-ego for the Four Suits, and Persephone Blackburn was a lie to the world.  
  
        I finally emerged from the corner and began heading back to my room, when something inside me made me think otherwise. Maybe it was the sinking feeling inside my stomach, or the pain behind my eyes or the headache threatening to pound against my skull, or maybe I just wanted to be alone, so I turned and walked toward the one secret passageway that I knew would give me solitude. My legs didn’t slow even when I suddenly felt tired, I continued to walk faster and faster until I broke out into a run, I ran down the stone corridor that nestled between the school courtyard and the lake. I stopped just underneath the stony stair way that spiraled up and opened the secret passageway behind the stairs, climbing through I walked a short distance before opening the door panel that led to the small round room with the piano.  
  
        I finally allowed myself to catch my breath as I ambled over to the window seats, sitting down, I leaned my head back against one of the pillars that framed the windows and lulled my head to the side, watching the lake in front of me. I realized, in that moment’s peaceful solitude, that I was exhausted, not just physically with the muscles of my body aching from days and days of training and fighting, but also mentally, my mind was tired and emotionally, my heart felt heavy.  
  
        I closed my eyes. I was tired, tired of secrets, tired of all this spy stuff that’s left me feeling more alone than I have ever felt.  
 _  
“We are the Four Suits, goodnight everyone!” The four of us chorused at the end and from out of our pockets, as we pulled out large black silks, the lights danced about and the audience ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed at the dancing silk curtains, and while their attention were elsewhere, we disappeared.  
_  
 _I could still hear the loud cheers of the audience even after we’ve exited the stage, and I could still feel the heat of the spotlight on the bare skin of my arms and legs. I still felt the adrenaline and the excitement of our performance, but soon that dwindled when we made our way back to our rooms and straight toward the small, round table at the side. We all picked up our cards._  
 _  
“_ Solitude after and to death, _” The four of us spoke out of routine and none of us said another word to the other as we turned and went our separate ways again._  
 _  
Solitude before the Four, solitude after and to death._  
  
        This passed on as a reminder to all of us, we were alone with all our secrets before the Four, and shall continue to be after the Four and taken to our graves. It was a reminder that I would always be alone.  
  
        I felt my mind drifting further and further as my breathing slowed and the soft thumps of my heart was the only sound I heard, my hand fell to my side and I felt something brush against my fingers. I opened my eyes again, and reached into the pocket of my skirt, where I pulled out the small, white ball with the black rose itched in black ink. I absentmindedly turned the ball around in my hand, feeling the smooth surface of it as the memory resurfaced.  
  
 _“Impressive. You’re no amateur, are you?”  
_  
        His voice floated through my mind.  
  
 _“Spy,”  
_  
        His smile teased my heart.  
  
 _“Morning, Blackburn.”_  
  
        His touch haunted my skin.  
 _  
“She has a name! And her name is Persephone,”_  
  
        I clutched the ball tightly in my hand, felt my jaw clench as I forced myself to stop. Wanting, right now, was dangerous to the mission. It was dangerous to the Goodes.    
  
        “The only reason he could make you feel this way is because you’re lonely, and he’s the only guy who’s giving you any attention,” I tell myself out loud.  
  
        ‘ _But maybe, just maybe…_ ’ I thought as I dared to let the tiny flame ignite at the darkest corners of my soul, _‘of all lies, the truth of it is because Andrew was Andrew, and you’ve completely fallen for him._ ’ 


	5. Raw

“Do you mind if I join you?” Agent Goode’s voice came from across the small room, without looking up from the ping pong ball, I nodded, watching as the rose rolled upright on its stem and fall back to its side as I lazily rolled it back and forth. Agent Goode crossed the room, sitting at my feet on the other side of the bench, she leaned against the window.  
  
        “Is that mine?” I asked, referring to the brown folder in her hands after taking a quick glance.  
  
        “No, it’s–-” Agent Goode held up the folder, on the front of the plain brown folder was a rectangular white strip with the words _Rose Chanteloup-Cheng_ printed in black ink.  
  
        “Got your puzzle pieces together then?” I asked, mildly interested.  
  
        “The picture… is somewhat assembled, but it could be clearer,” Agent Goode tossed the folder onto the piano bench, where its contents slipped out slightly. She leaned back, crossed her arms and looked at me with a brow raised, “care to enlighten me?”  
  
         I resumed lazily rolling the ping pong ball back and forth under my index finger. A long silence dragged on between us, a part of me hoped the silence was enough for Agent Goode to reconsider and accept it as it was but another part of me wanted at least someone to know.  
  
         _It’s been nine years.  
  
        _“Well, V for Vendetta for starters,” I said under my breath after a while, and caught a glimpse of a small smile flickering on Agent Goode’s lips and felt my lips quirk up too, then faltering as I wander to the path at the back of my mind.  
  
        “They were still a young couple,” I murmured, then turned to see if Agent Goode heard, she nodded once, a given indication so I continued, “Henry Chanteloup and Elaine Cheng, they had a daughter, Rose, and I suppose you could say they were a happy family. Henry and Elaine were musicians, Henry was a pianist, Elaine was a violinist, and even though they were beautiful and amazing musicians, it wasn’t enough to get by on their own, so Henry got a job, at a construction site.”  
  
         _“Bàba?” she woke up to the light, feathering touch of her father’s lips on her forehead._  
 _  
“Sorry, bǎ_ _ob_ _è_ _i, did I wake you?” her father asked while stroking her hair. It was six in the morning, a routine that was yet to be acquainted with, she could see the dark circles showing beneath her father’s eyes and yet his bluebell eyes still remained youthful and bright._  
 _  
“Do you have to go?” she asked, stretching then rubbing her eyes, and aware of the slight whine in her voice but her father smiled and rested a warm hand on her arm. She glanced down at his long, graceful piano fingers then narrowed her eyes at the ugly red scars that blemished his knuckles._  
 _  
“This is nothing,” her father pulled away his hand, and rested them on his lap placing the other hand on top, out of sight and out of mind. She sat up on her bed, frowning, it was not out of her mind even when the scars were._  
 _  
“They ruin your hands, bàba,” she said, looking down at her lap then back up at her father. “And your eyes,” her father laughed._  
 _  
“Am I no longer beautiful? Should I be worried about your mother leaving me?”_  
 _  
“Well, your beauty was the reason I fell in love with you,” her mother chimed in, leaning against the white doorframe. A Cheshire-grin spread across his face as he stood up and walked over to his wife, taking her into his arms he leaned down and gave her a teasing kiss. She stuck out her tongue and pulled her knees up to her chest as she watched her parents, madly in love and silly._  
 _  
“Don’t get into too much trouble, you two,” her father warned playful._  
 _  
“Don’t worry, honey, Rosie and I will both have matching tattoos when you get back,” her mother said jokingly._  
 _  
        “And, bàba I’ll make sure māma sets the curtains on fire _before _you get home.” She chimed in with a joke too and smiled at her mother’s melodic chortle. Then rolled her eyes in playful disgust when her father gave her mother another kiss, before walking back over to her and giving her forehead another kiss._  
 _  
“Are the curtains_ that _hideous?” her father asked as he and her mother stepped out of her room._  
 _  
“Take care!” she called after them before slipping back into the comforts of her covers and going back to her peaceful slumber._  
  
        “Every morning at six Henry would wake up and get dressed, but before leaving, he would attempt to give his sleeping daughter a kiss without waking her but she does, and always tells him to take care before he left. His wife would walk him to his car, give him his lunch and he would drive for an hour to work.” My eyes stayed glued at the ball under my fingers, and a small, sad smile twitched on my lips. I exhaled a short sigh, “But there was one day, when his daughter forgot to tell him to take care because she slept through his kiss and Elaine forgot to give Henry his lunch, and decided to bring it to him herself. It was December 18th when it happened.”  
  
        “Craw Building Crumbles,” Agent Goode eye’s shifted to the perfectly cutout newspaper headline that stuck out of the folder, reciting the title in big and bold font.  
  
        “Eighteen lives taken; family members, friends, loved ones – gone, and a seven year old girl, orphaned. All because Isidore Craw was selfish and cut corners to save on whatever billions of dollar he already had.” I tasted the poison on my tongue as I stared blankly at the ping pong ball, and felt my blood beginning to boil as I continued, “And that bastard had the audacity to attempt to sue every one of the worker’s families, for “waste of materials” and “lack of commitment”, but of course Mr. Craw didn’t get his way or his money, that was part of the bad karma he had coming for him.” Clenching my jaws, I breathed out.  
  
        “Eighteen lives were taken because of him, and Rose Chanteloup-Cheng was sent into the system, for two years,”  
  
         _“What are you doing?!” she cried as the older girls dragged her, by her hair, down the stairs to the cold, dark basement of the orphanage, where they tied her to a wooden beam._  
  
        “Until the fire,” My eyes cut to Agent Goode’s, whose face stayed solemn and unreadable. “Rose was nine years old,”  
  
         _One of the girls held up a lighter and flicked it on, taunting and wicked smiles illuminated sinisterly by the flame. The girl with the lighter then brought it inches from her face, the flame just grazing her cheek as she let out a cry._  
 _  
“Stop!” she screamed, but a hand muffled her cry then, once certain she wouldn’t cry again, a hard slap came and the girls laughed._  
  
        “When one night at the orphanage, she was taken by the older girls and brought down to the basement, where she was tied up and fire was being toyed around.”  
  
         _She barely contained the scream that clawed at her throat as she panicked and her breath came in faster and faster, her heart pounded and her stomach twisted, she felt sick when one of the girls set the ends of her hair on fire. They allowed the flame to grow and dance wildly before grabbing the back of her head and shoving her face into the metal bucket of water. When she was allowed to come back up for air, she could smell the pungent smell of burnt hair and hot smoke suffocated her as she choked on the water._  
  
        “Something caught on fire and spread too quickly for the girls to put out, so they ran, leaving her in the fire.”  
 _  
        She watched in panic as the fire engulfed the room around her, thick smoke smothered her lungs, she heard girls screaming and loud stomping as they ran out of the house. Panicking, she pulled and twisted at the rope bonding her wrists, until her wrist felt unbelievably hot and her back trenched with sweat then searing pain shot up of her back, and she realized the rope and the beam had caught fire. The fire burned through the ropes and before it engulfed her wrist too, she dunked her hands into the small bucket of water, and when bringing them back up, both the fire and the water left her wrists raw. Her hands shook as she brought the bucket of water down on herself, she screamed at the pain that stabbed her back and forearms, her legs were shaking and weak as she searched around the room full of fire. She sobbed, her heart pounded and she thought this was it for her, until her eyes landed on the loose panel at the side of the room._  
  
        “Where Rose died,” Agent Goode filled in. An empty smile curved my lips.  
  
        “Rose got out of her binds,” My voice was soft, and the empty smile stayed. Agent Goode’s brows knitted together. “She found a loose panel and escaped. She lived.”  
  
        “But it says Rose died in the fire,”  
  
        “Oh, Rose did die in the fire that night,” I said quietly while making the white ping pong ball with the black ink rose, disappear.  
  
         _Rose stood at the hill behind the smoldering house of the orphanage, she watched as lights of red and white cut through the dark night while screeching sirens pierced through the sleeping neighborhood. A drop of water rolled down her cheek, and she tilted her head back when rain began falling from the grey clouds of the pitch-black sky, the rain drops were like needles against the raw of her skin and yet, oddly soothing. A shiver ran through her whole body as she watched the fire being slowly put out by the rain and water from the fire truck, her eyes drifted down to her hands, where the tips of her fingers were charred and throbbing from prying open the burning metal panel._  
 _  
She was out, she was free._  
 _  
She was dead._  
  
        “Rose Chanteloup-Cheng died in the fire that night,” I said again, “and Persephone Blackburn was born from the ashes.” I made the ball reappear, and upon looking at the rose again, I saw the curve of the rose’s stem and the shape of the rose that made it look slightly like an overly fancy _P_.  
  
        Tucking the ball back into the pocket of my skirt, I glanced down at my fingers where faint white lines scarred the surface. I barely heard Agent Goode’s voice as she told me my scars was the reason I was hard to track, I only thought, since opening up my past for the first time, of how I am truly a ghost that belonged to neither the living nor the dead.    
  
        I glanced back up at Agent Goode and realized there had been a long silence lingering between us, I must have looked like I wanted to say more, and I suppose I did because then I took a breath in before saying, “Mr. Goode told me.” Agent Goode tilted her head slightly in curiosity.  
  
        “About your dad,” If Agent Goode was taken back by this, she didn’t show, instead she nodded knowingly, as if she understood, so I continued, “he told me what happened to him, and about the real reason why I’m here.”  
  
        “When?” Agent Goode asked, her hands folded neatly on her lap and her eyes never left mine.  
  
        “The first day of CoveOps,” I answered, thinking back to the first day of classes for me, after Mr. Goode had told me to notice my surroundings, then went on teaching me spy-terminologies, he sat me down at one of the desks five minutes before the bell and told me almost everything about this mission. Though none of it surprised me, I kind of already figured why I was needed the most. I was ghost, therefore, I was expendable.  
  
        “You knew and yet you still stayed?” Agent Goode’s voice was soft but steady, and her eyes now down at her hands. I shrugged, and then realized she probably didn’t see it.  
  
        “I figured you must really love your children to not want them to go through what you’ve been through.”  
  
        There was another long silence before Agent Goode nodded her head, and without looking back up at me, she softly whispered a thank you.  
   
  
        Later that night, I thought I had a dream of a memory, a peaceful, serene and bittersweet dream. I thought I had felt one last kiss from my father that night as a pair of lips brushed softly against my forehead, and a tear rolled down my cheek. I felt my heart clutch tightly as I thought of my mother, wiping away the tear with a gentle touch and shushing me back to slumber.  
  
        “Go back to sleep,” a voice that belonged to neither my father nor my mother, and I thought I must have dreamt it up because it sounded awfully familiar and similar to the tone that taught me Portuguese and Korean. The voice spoke softly and almost lulled me back to sleep as they stroked my hair, but despite the words and the voice that wasn’t my parent’s, I knew this would be my last chance.  
  
        “I’m sorry, bàba, māma,” I heard my voice crack, my hand reached out blindly, searching for ghosts when another hand, warm and solid, wrapped around mine.  
  
         _‘I forgot to tell you to take care, forgive me, please.’_  
   
  
         I pulled on the black jacket over my well-worn, dark red hoodie and slipped on the short leather gloves from my Ace outfit, though my confidence in the warmth and protection these gloves would give me in the cold is next to nothing, I still liked the aesthetics of it. Just as I opened my door, Andrew was standing on the other side with a hand raised to knock on the door that’s no longer there.  
  
        “Hi,” he said, grinning as I lowered his hand with mine, I felt his fingers uncurl beneath mine, fitting themselves loosely in between the spaces of my fingers.  
  
        “Hi,” I echoed and stepped out to join him in the hall. Andrew looked me up and down then scratched at the nape of his neck. I thought I had an idea of what he was going to say until he actually said it.  
  
        “You’re going to be so cold, Blackburn. Don’t you have anything warmer?” he asked, still grinning while I rolled my eyes then he snapped his fingers with his other hand, as if an idea came to mind, “or is this a hint that I should be ready to give up my jacket for you when you get cold?” Andrew’s grin widened as I laughed, our gazes glued to each other, and for me, I was fully aware of his thumb drawing circles, lightly against the skin between the thumb and index.  
  
        “So what’s my cue? When you rub your arms? Or are you going to cough?” Andrew rambled, “Oh! Or are you going to sneeze? Can you fake sneeze? I would love to hear you fake sneeze.”  
  
        One thing was clear to me though, and that was: Andrew Goode was nervous. Call me wicked, but I kind of liked knowing I had that effect on him, the endless ramblings and the mindless (I’m assuming he’s unaware, he hasn’t done so otherwise) thumb rubbing.  
  
        I took my gaze off of his for a moment, searching the corridor before returning them to his.  
  
        “Where are the others?” I asked, seeing the falter in his eyes for a spilt second, I remembered the whispers and the topic surrounding me last evening, and regretted asking at that moment.  
  
        “Tristan and Thomas have a date together, and the girls said they’re going to meet us later.” Andrew replied without skipping a beat, so I nodded, dropping our laced fingers as we both ignored the atmosphere of last evening’s unspoken event.  
  
        I walked with Andrew down the grand stairs, and stopped at the bottom to find Mr. Goode practically mummifying Morgan in layers of scarves. Agent Goode stood a little ways off at the side, arms crossed and giving Mr. Goode’s back a good glare. I felt that odd twist in my stomach from last time, when I watched Scarlet being spun around by Grant, but this time the fire that burned through my blood from last time stayed extinguished.  
  
        “Zach–” Agent Goode began to say, and clearly irritated.  
  
        “Cam,” Mr. Goode interrupted, mimicking the same tone while wrapping a second scarf around Morgan’s neck, “I’m being safe,”  
  
        “You’re being ridiculous.” Agent Goode stated bluntly.  
  
        “Jimmy–”  
  
        “ _Josh,_ ”  
  
        “Works in this town, he’s bound to see Morgan at some point–”  
  
        I no longer paid attention to the conversation but heard Andrew’s stifled snickers and laughter as we watched Morgan waddle her way over to us, the parts of her face (which really, was only her eyes) that wasn’t wrapped in scarves and hoods, told us she was anything but grateful for an overly protective father.  
  
        “I hate whoever this Jimmy or Josh person is,” Morgan glowered.  
  
        “Do you really need two scarves?” Andrew asked then narrowed his eyes, “hey, is that my scarf?” he pointed to the bright red peeking out from behind the navy blue. Morgan unwound both scarves vigorously, yanking off the red one she gave it back to Andrew.  
  
        “Hey, M,” Andrew stopped Morgan by the arm as she turned to rejoin her friends, who were waiting for her at the front doors. “If anything happens,” he held up his wrist, displaying a round silver watch with an ink black back and white numbers circling around. As confused as I was, Morgan was not, she gave a nod then went on her way.  
  
        “So… if anything happens, look at your watch?” I tried. Andrew turned to me and began wrapping the scarf around my neck, my eyes wandered, for a moment, from Andrew to Agent Goode at the back and saw she was looking our way as Mr. Goode ran after his daughter, who had already dropped all the layers of jackets and made a run for it. Andrew brought my attention back as he showed me his watch again, with two fingers he twisted the circular screen to the side and revealed another smooth screen beneath, a more intricate piece with a touch screen lens.  
  
        “Morgan and Cass designed it. It’s to help us communicate, almost like a pager but better and cooler because it also has other functions.” Andrew began swiping through his superspy watch, pointing to its gimmicks and explaining its functions. I nodded, my lips pressed together as they suppressed a mocking smile.  
  
        “Oh, very superspy,” I finally teased and he rolled his eyes as he ushered me forward to the front doors.  
             
  
        When Andrew and I walked into town, I almost tripped in surprise at the scene in front of me. Black and white with gold accents decorated the town, streamers hung from the white gazebo to the five poles stationed around the outside, balloons bobbed and swayed from tables and stands, and the air around us was ecstatic. Small stands stood in the middle of a smaller street at the side, the gazebo was filled with musicians in black and white formal outfits, playing festive songs. At the top of the gazebo was a display of four white cards fanned out with black borders, there was no name to the display but everyone at the festival seemed to already know what they were celebrating. It was a festival for the Four Suits, something I hadn’t known that people had held in our absences.  
  
        All around I saw Gallagher and Blackthorne faces, but also new faces, the faces of the townspeople, I saw Mr. Mosckowitz, the school’s Computing teacher (though my computing classes comes from Dr. Ng), walking around with Madam Dabney, her hand looped around his arm. I saw professors and teachers from the school walking around, peering curiously down at stands and stalls, looking as normal as anyone else, some Gallagher girls walked in groups, giggling together like normal teenagers, some Blackthorne boys were goofing off with each other at the dunk tank.  
  
        The outside of the academy maybe a pompous cover for who it’s residents really are, but there is not denying it that the students and teachers of the Gallagher-Blackthorne academy were still human beings, they were still people who enjoy a weekend out, who enjoy Friday night movie nights and sleeping in on Saturdays.  
  
        Andrew and I walked up to the nearest stand, and despite all the black and white and gold things laid out in front of me, it was the mannequin standing at the side that caught my attention, more specifically the mannequin’s clothes. The black laced eye piece that covered the mannequin’s nonexistent eyes, the black jack with short sleeves draping over top the equally black but with a hint of gold, one piece underneath, the black gloves on the mannequin’s hands. I reached out and felt the fabric of the jacket, and saw the gold thread at the right of the jacket, the fabric was different, no doubt but the design was impeccable, closely resembling that of the–  
  
         “Ace’s outfit,” the girl behind the table chirped in, “The Ace is my favourite.”  
  
        “Did you make this?” I asked, holding up the fabric I was touching and the girl nodded proudly, I raised both brows.  
  
        “This is impressive,” I said as I examined the replica outfit.  
  
        “Are you an Ace?” the girl asked and my heart jumped, I quickly turned to her and the girl pointed to my gloves, “that looks like an Ace glove. Are you an Ace fan?”  
  
        “Oh,” I breathed, “yeah, I guess so.”  
  
        “Wait, the Ace is your favourite?” Andrew stepped in, his question directed to the girl operating the stand, “what about the Jack? He’s lovable and looks like the good kind of trouble-maker type,” the girl at the stand laughed then pointed to the stand across from hers, where a boy operated the table, but apparently that table was dedicated to the Jack.  
  
        After teasing Andrew of his crush on the Jack, which resulted in a lot of eye-rolling and arm brushing, we looked around the stalls and walked about the festival, enjoying the magician themed food and the festive songs. There were other performers and entertainers, none of which are the Four Suits, at least I don’t think the members would be here since in my experience, we never stayed in one place after a show, but nevertheless there were other magicians and illusionists performing on the streets.  
  
        Then Andrew took me to one of the town’s shops, it was a quaint little shop, but with obvious remodeling done shown by the two large windows on either side of the baby blue wooden door, above was a white sign with the image of a baby blue teddy bear with all sorts of arrangements around it but no name under the shop’s brand. As Andrew and I entered, I looked around the shop and saw it held stock that varied from unique notebooks to little keychains.  
  
        “Morgan’s birthday is next month,” Andrew answered without me saying anything, I nodded as we stopped at a small table with a jewelry stand wired into a tree, and on its branches hung various bracelets and necklaces.  
  
        “I figured since I’m out now, might as well get something for her here. Except, I don’t know what to get her, I mean what _do_ you get a girl who can practically make anything out of nothing?” Andrew examined the chained bracelet he picked up then placed it back on the tree, and turned his gaze to me. I looked around the store and bunched my lips to the side.  
  
        “Good question,” I tapped a finger under my chin and walked over to a display stand with journals lining its shelves, my eyes scanned the rows of journals then double backed to the blue leather peeking out from behind a black journal. I pulled out the journal and saw that it was a deep, navy blue with a bare front cover, and for some reason, I thought it suited Andrew, both in colour and in style. I looked back to Andrew when the bell to the shop jingled as the door opened, and a head popped through. It was Tristan. He had his hand next to his mouth and attempting, but failing, to whisper.  
  
        “Andrew,” he hissed loudly, my head turned to Andrew, who was on the other side of the shop, looking through a kaleidoscope lens and clearly oblivious. “Andrew!” Tristan practically shouted, and at this, Andrew finally looked up, startled, and blinking at Tristan.  
  
        Tristan opened his mouth but before he could utter a word, the door was pushed opened as Thomas pushed passed Tristan, looking slightly disgruntled as he took strides toward me and stopped in front of the bookstand, his hand skimming over the journals. Andrew placed the lens down then mouthed to me that he would be right back and left with Tristan, who took one last glance at Thomas before closing the door. I turned back to Thomas, who was aggressively bending the journal and flipping through the pages.  
  
        “Is everything okay, Thomas?” I asked, leaning against the stand, from the corner of my eyes I saw the owner eyeing us cautiously at the counter, so I reached over and took the journal away from him before he broke the innocent victim.  
  
        “Just fine,” Thomas replied coldly, then reached for another journal.  
  
        “Okay,” I reached out and stopped his hand, preventing another victim, and giving his hand a slight shake to get his attention, “are you and Tristan okay?” I rephrased my question. Thomas turned his head slightly, without lifting it up he looked at me from the corner of his eyes, and under his unreadable expression, I dropped my hand and my gaze down at the zipper of my jacket and rubbed it between my fingers.  
  
        “Right, you don’t know me that well,” I said quietly, “you don’t have to tell me.” I heard Thomas take a deep breath in and out.  
  
        “I just wish,” he began, my head jerked up just as Thomas took another frustrated breath in and out, he then lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just wish Tristan would make his own decisions, and that he would leave Andrew out of our relationship, and not consult him on everything, especially on personal matters.”  
  
        “It’s like he doesn’t have an opinion of his own.” Thomas rolled his eyes while crossing his arms, he let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t realize when I started dating Tristan that I would be dating Andrew as well. Tristan was never like this with his previous partners, so why am I different?”  
  
        “Well, maybe it’s _because_ you’re different to him that he needs Andrew to confirm his choices.” I tried to explain but met with a look that told me I was unsuccessful, so I tried again, “I mean, maybe you’re so important to him that he doesn’t want to do anything to mess this up, you know? So having Andrew to confirm his choice gives him security?” The last part came out more like an uncertain answer, but to be fair, I have never experienced this before, both being in a relationship and talking about it, so I was going solely based on imagination and the Queen’s past advice. Thomas must have understood it better because he nodded, taking it into consideration before shrugging and the corner of his lips twitched up.  
  
        “Still, I can’t help but wish he’d be less reliant on Andrew and… more on me,” Thomas’s shoulders sunk slightly as he glanced down at his shoes briefly, and then back up at me, giving me a smile, “thanks Persephone.”  
  
        “No problem,” I smiled then held up the navy blue journal, “do you mind?”  
          
        “Go ahead,”  
  
        I left Thomas at the bookstand and walked over to the counter where I exchanged with the owner a couple of crumpled bills for a bag with the journal in it. The door to the shop opened with a melodic jingle and I turned to see Thomas leaving and Andrew entering.  
  
        “Everything okay?” I asked when Andrew walked up to me, he nodded.  
  
        “And everything okay on your side?” He asked as he looked back to the windows, where Thomas and Tristan stood facing each other for a moment before Tristan grabbed Thomas’s hand and led him elsewhere.  
  
        “Honestly, I don’t know but maybe,” I began to say that got Andrew’s attention back on me, and automatically I shrugged, “maybe you could advise Tristan to talk to Thomas,”  
  
        “But Tristan does talk to Thomas,”  
  
        “No, I mean _talk_ , really talk to Thomas, not through you or with you by his side, because it seems to me, in Thomas’s perspective he feels like he’s dating you too.” Andrew nodded for a bit as he took it into consideration, and agreed to it, his eyes then drifted to the bag in my hand and he pointed to it.  
  
        “Just a little something,” I answered then quickly changed the subject, “do you know what you’re getting for Morgan?” Andrew shook his head and took another glance at the store. I looked out the window and to one of the stands outside in the streets and an idea came to mind.  
  
        “Cards,” I said aloud, then, without waiting for Andrew’s response, I took his hand and dragged him back out into the streets and toward the stand that was selling decks of black and white cards. “Morgan said she was interested in the whole magician, illusionist thing, so why not get her, her very own deck? And the Four Suits themed deck, no less.”  
  
        Andrew grinned, picking up one of the decks with a black case and the white symbol of four cards fanned out, he turned it around and examined it before handing it over to the man operating the stand.  
  
        “And I could get Morgan the Ace’s mask to finish the gift off,” Andrew said as he slipped the deck into his pockets.  
  
        “She likes the Ace?” I asked, surprised, Andrew nodded and began heading over to the Ace’s stand when I stopped him. “Then don’t worry about it, I’ll get the mask.” I offered. Andrew began to protest but I shook my head.  
  
        “Its fine, I want to. For Morgan, I want to.” I thought for sure, Andrew would have been happy about my offer but instead he seemed… wary, rather than hesitant, and his smile seemed to be forced as he thanked me before leading me to a diner, with a distance between us, where the others were waiting for us.  
  
        ' _Great, what did I do this time?’_  
  
        I followed Andrew to the circular booth with a window behind it, five familiar faces sat in the low seats. Morgan sat at one of the ends until Andrew scooted her over and took her seat at the end, leaving me to take the seat next to Trena, across from him. As I shrugged off my coat and sat down, I saw everyone share glances with one another, Andrew included, and I couldn’t help but feel a little irritated now with all the unspoken-secretive-conversation-glances and the never-telling-me-what-the-hell-I-did-wrong silences.  
  
        “Where’s Thomas?” Andrew asked Tristan, who miserably pointed out the window behind him and mouthed something that looked like ‘home’, Andrew nodded, understanding.  
  
        “Everyone know what they want?” Lindy asked after a moment, “Persephone?”  
  
        “Not hungry,” I mumbled.  
  
        “But you haven’t eaten this morning,” Andrew stated. I didn’t look at him as I replied.  
  
        “Well, I’m not hungry.”  
  
        I saw Cass open her mouth but stopped when a group of teenagers strolled in, both Cass and Morgan shrank in their seats, Lindy propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, looking bored, but Andrew, Trena and Tristan straightened in their seats, their gazes hardened as if looking ready for a fight. As the group walked past us, I heard some whispers and saw some glares thrown at us.  
  
        “Ugh, Gallagher Girls and Blackthorne Boys,” they whispered in disgust.  
  
        One of the teenagers, a boy about Morgan’s age stopped when he saw me, an amused smirk tugged at his lips, he raised one of his brows as he took me in from head to toe.  
  
        “ _You’re_ a Gallagher Girl?” he scoffed and his friends turned to look at me, one of the girls almost stumbled back, her eyes widened, the boy turned his head. “You okay, El?” The girl managed a nod then looked away from me. The boy was about to turn back to me when one of his friends stopped him.  
  
        “Dan, come on, stop. Let’s just go,” his friend said pulling Dan’s arm but Dan just gave his friend a look.  
  
        “What, Adam? Following through with _all_ of your dad’s footsteps? Gonna fall in love with a Gallagher Girl, too?” Dan taunted Adam, whose face flushed red, he smirked when Adam released his arm and turned away, Dan then turned back to me, he walked up to us and with one hand on the table he leaned over, bringing his face closely to mine. I saw Andrew ball his hands into fists and felt Trena beside me stiffen.  
  
        “What? Can’t speak, little princess?” I leaned back in the seat, crossing my arms. A wicked grin appeared on Dan’s face as he inched his face closer to mine, he cupped his hand under my chin, “what’s wrong? Need a little he–” Before he could finish his sentence I spat into his eye, he stumbled back into his friends who barely managed to catch him.  
  
        “You bitch!” Dan screamed then lunged forward, from the corner of my eye I saw Trena, Tristan, Lindy and Andrew leap up from their seats but before they could do anything and before Dan could reach me, I was already out of my seat. I grabbed Dan’s wrist and twisted his arm, spinning him around, I pinned his arm against his back.  
  
        “Yeah, I’m a fucking bitch,” I snapped, “A bitch that can kick your obnoxious ass in two seconds flat.”  
  
        “Hey!” A low voice bellowed and before I knew it, I was pulled away from Dan. “What’s the meaning of this?!”  
  
        “She spat in my eye!” Dan said angrily as he pointed accusingly to me. The owner eyed me as he scanned me up and down.  
  
        “I knew you were a trouble maker the moment you stepped in here,” he leered at me then turned to the boy, “are you okay, Danny boy?” he asked and I rolled my eyes, scoffing. The owner whipped back around.  
  
        “You got something to say?!” He yelled, making everyone jump at the roar of his voice. I dug my nails into my palm, preventing them from shaking too badly and then reached for my jacket at our booth.  
  
        “Yeah, I do,” I angrily spat back as I pulled on my jacket, “next time how about you be a little less prejudice and not judge someone based on their appearance, and actually get the scope of the matter before jumping to your own damn conclusions.”  
  
        “Get out,” the owner snarled, “you are never allowed back here.”  
  
        “But he was the one provoking her!” Tristan jumped in to my defense, which was a surprise to me. “He was harassing her and he would’ve jumped her if she didn’t do anything!”  
  
        “And she assaulted him!” The owner shouted, jabbing a finger in Dan’s direction.  
  
        “Persephone was defending herself!” Trena countered back, angrily with her hands curled into fists on the table.  
  
        “Are these your friends? They go too!” The owner whirled back to me but before anyone could say anything I spoke first.  
  
        “No, they’re just classmates.” I said bitterly as I grabbed my bag and walked away.  
  
        I had crossed the street from the diner when someone called out to me.  
          
        “Hey!” I ignored her call and walked toward the gazebo, which was now empty as the musicians were taking a break. I crossed over the gazebo and was beginning to descend down the steps on the other side when she called out again, “Rose!”  
  
        I whirled around to her, stopping at the steps. I clutched my hands into fists and blinked back the tears.  
  
        “What do you want, El!” I asked furiously that made her stop, her face seemed pained as she swallowed and her hands shook at her side, her voice cracked as she said, “Oh my god, you are alive…”  
  
         I let out a frustrated breath white running a hand through my hair before facing her again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean–”  
  
        “No,” El interrupted then wrung her hands as she continued, “I should be the one apologizing, for everything I’ve done to you at the orphanage. I was scared, and I know it’s not a good enough reason, but I was just angry and scared so I took it all out on you, and I’m sorry, Rose. Or, um, Persephone,” she corrected herself but I waved it away and leaned against one of the pillars of the gazebo. I stared at the space in front of me while El looked at me nervously, she said softly once more, “I’m really sorry,” After a while, just as she was about to turn and leave, I let out a breath and looked at her from the corner of my eyes.  
  
        “So you in a good place now? Got adopted by a good family?” I asked and at my question, El let out a shaky, relieved laugh before awkwardly moving to the pillar across from me.  
  
        “Yeah, I was one of the lucky ones. Trying to do better now, you know?” she said, looking sheepishly at me before adding in, “and you? I mean, Gallagher Academy,” she gestured toward the general direction of the academy, “you must have gotten into a pretty good family too.”  
  
        “Yeah,” I said numbly but El didn’t seem to notice.  
  
        “That’s great, I’m happy for you.” El chirped, I looked at her for a moment and realized she was being genuine, but that wasn’t what surprised me most, instead it was the fact that I could look at El and not feel the poison in my veins, my hands didn’t curl at the sound of her voice, my blood didn’t boil the way it did for Craw. I was never angry at the girls from the orphanage. We were all scared, we were all angry.  
  
        “I’m happy for you too,” I told her with a small smile and El beamed. Before she left, now on the steps of the gazebo on the other side, she turned back to me.  
  
        “If you want, I could talk to Dan. He’s a good guy, he doesn’t mean harm,” I shook my head and waved the idea away.  
  
        “I really don’t give a damn about his opinion of me,” I told El, who nodded nervously, going back to wringing her hands, she opened her mouth then closed them. El waved me goodbye and headed back, I don’t think I got a moment to catch my breath when someone else approached me.  
  
        “Excuse me, Miss?” I turned to the voice beside me and saw a man standing just a few steps away from me. He wore a clean, neat grey suit and a bowler hat that’s tipped slightly to obscure the view of his eyes. “I was wondering if I could perform a simple magic trick. You see, I just recently bought a Four Suits deck, do you mind?” I crossed my arms, my nails digging into my arms as I eyed the man.  
  
        “Fine, but if you do anything I swear I’ll kick your ass,” I pushed myself off the pillar and stood squared, ready for anything. The man chuckled.  
  
        “Duly noted,” he said then brought out a card and held it up in front of me, my eyes darted to the placement of his fingers and knew exactly what trick he was going to perform, the flick switch. The card he was holding, I noticed, was an Ace card. I saw a sly smirk on his lips but before I could react, he switched the cards. I steadied myself with a hand on the pillar, my eyes widened slightly at the card in front of me and then, I felt myself smile. I reached out and plucked the sturdy, new card from his fingers, against the black background of the card, was a white illustration of the Joker.  
  
        “Raz,” I looked up from the card, the smile still stretched across my lips as I watched the man in front of me take off his hat, placing it to his chest, he took my hand and kissed the back of my hand.  
  
        “My dear Ace,” Though his hair was beginning to grey, his emerald green eyes stayed as vibrant and youthful as always. Raz walked me to one of the park benches that faced the bell tower and we both sat for a while, talking like an apprentice seeing their master years later, like old friends catching up. Raz mentioned the little scene I pulled at the diner moments ago, and I just rolled my eyes, reminding him of my bad temper which made him laugh.  
  
        “Yes, you always did have a bad temper, I remember, but I personally think it’s perfectly fine for a young lady to have a bad temper, you can’t expect yourself to keep your cool all the time, or you’d explode.” He reminded me and I smiled in comfort of those words, at least Raz understands.  
  
        “Any luck finding a new Ace?” I asked after a while.  
  
        “No,” Raz shook his head then laughed, “The crew, including me, refuses to find anyone else. You are irreplaceable, and everyone in the Four Suits feels the same.” Raz handed me a small, black voice recorder, he nodded to it so I pressed the play button.  
  
         _“Before we say goodnight,”_ the Queen’s voice came through, _“we would just like to say,”_  
 _  
“We will not be finding a replacement for the Ace,”_ the King’s voice continued on from the Queen’s sentence.  
  
         _“We’ve decided we will wait, no matter how long, for our Ace to return home to us.”_ The Jack finished, and in the background I heard the crowd cheering.  
  
         _“We will wait for our Ace, and we will always be, the Four Suits!”_ The three of them chorused and the crowd cheered even louder.  
  
        I felt myself smile as I gazed down at the voice recorder, then I glanced back up to meet Raz’s eyes but he was gone, disappeared like a ghost and I expected nothing less from our Joker, our Magician and the fifth member of the Four Suits.  
  
        I looked passed from where Raz was sitting moments ago and saw Thomas sitting at the bench across from mine, but he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t with Tristan, he was with another boy. I got up from the bench and walked over to them, stopping just in front of Thomas, the boy looked up from Thomas who had his elbows on his knees and his face in the palms of his hands.  
  
        “Thomas, are you okay?” I asked, almost emotionlessly as I eyed the boy next to Thomas. Thomas’s head jerked up.  
  
        “Oh, Persephone,”  
  
        “Hi, I’m–” the boy reached out a hand.  
  
        “Thomas I think you should really talk to Tristan,” I ignored the boy and his out stretched hand, which he slowly retreated back.  
  
        “What? So Tristan can consult with Andrew but I can’t consult with anybody?” Thomas spat bitterly as he glared at me then went back to sulking into his hand, his voice was muffled as he said, “And that’s Julian, by the way,” Julian gave me a warm smile and a wave, but I shut my eyes tight and pinched the bridge of my nose.  
  
        “No, Thomas, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying this relationship is between you and Tristan–”  
  
        “Tell that to Tristan!”  
  
        “So only you and Tristan can talk this out.” I spoke over him, “So get Tristan alone, even if it means… I don’t know, locking Andrew in a storage room or something. Just get Tristan _alone_ , and tell him how you feel.” Thomas finally looked up at me again, then his eyes slowly drifted down with a distant look as he thought about it, and finally he nodded.  
   
  
        I thought about the voice recorder as I stared at the almost empty plate in front of me, it was awkward at first, walking into the Grand Hall without knowing where I would sit now but Thomas came up beside me, probably still oblivious of the event at the diner, and dragged me back to the table where the others were sitting, all except for Morgan and Andrew, whom were at their Sunday dinner with family.  
  
         _“We’ve decided we will wait, no matter how long, for our Ace to return home to us.”_  
          
        ‘ _I had a home.’_  
  
        A home I never realized I even had. I glanced up at the others, watching them talk and laugh with each other and I began to wonder, what made me stay so grounded to the academy? The academy wasn’t my home, I was alone here, I had no one and yet, the Four Suits, without even knowing who I was and not even once bothered by my clandestine background, was waiting for me to return.  
  
        Before I could chalk up an answer, Morgan ran up to our table.  
  
        “Have any of you seen Andrew?”  
  
        “I thought–” Before Tristan could finish his sentence, a loud clatter came from beside him as Thomas dropped his fork and was looking horrified, _at me._ It took me a moment.  
  
        “Thomas, you didn’t!” I cried out in disbelief and jumped out of my seat.  
  
        “You told me to!” He cried back while stumbling out of his seat.  
  
        “I was _joking_! I also added in the “or something”!”  
  
        “What’s going on?” someone, I think it was Lindy who asked.  
  
        “Thomas, go!” I ordered, pointing to the door and Thomas bolted with me following closely and the others scrambling out their seats in pursuit.  
  
        We followed Thomas out into courtyard, cutting across it and to the field with the lake on the other side, where we headed toward an old, storage shed. The doors to the shed rattled aggressively and angrily that made Thomas stop in his tracks just as a voice bellowed from behind the locked doors.  
  
        “Thomas I’m going to kill you! Is anybody out there! Open this door!” Andrew’s voice, though muffled, was loud and angrier than I’ve ever heard him.  
  
        “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow morning? To let him cool down,” Thomas suggested, looking as pale as a ghost.  
  
        “Thomas, when did you lock him in there?” I asked.  
  
        “Right after you suggested it,” he replied meekly.  
  
        “And after all those hours does he seem remotely calm to you?” Thomas deflated and shook his head. “So what do you think another couple of hours will do to him?” Thomas handed me the keys and I walked up to the door, which began to rattle once more so I kicked it. I thought the kick would have stymied Andrew long enough for me get the lock open but then he kicked the door back from the other side.  
  
        “Hey!” I screamed, “Do you want this opened or not?” There was a moment of silence before Andrew finally answered. Once the lock was off and the chains rattled to the ground, the doors swung open and Andrew stood in the dank shed, huffing like a bull with a rake in hand.  
  
        “I’m going to kill you!” Andrew screamed and lunged for Thomas when Tristan and I got in his way.  
  
        “She told me to do it!” Thomas cried from behind Trena then pointed to me.  
  
        “I said I was joking!” I accidentally screamed into Andrew’s ear that made him flinch, but before Andrew could yell anymore, Lindy burst out laughing and we all turned to her direction.  
  
        “There were spiders, weren’t there?” Lindy managed to get the words out before doubling over into laughter again, and Cass and Morgan followed after, then Trena and then Tristan. “Andrew, the only way you would ever lose your shit like that, is if there are spiders involved.” Lindy wiped away a tear that slipped out from the corner of her eyes before looking at me.  
  
        “Andrew _hates_ spiders.” She answered my unspoken question.  
  
        Andrew threw the rake down onto the grass and stalked to the side of the shed where he pulled out a long, green hose.  
  
        “Yeah, and _you_ hate getting wet!” Andrew turned on the hose, to whom he was implying to, was completely lost on me when the water drenched all of us standing opposite of him, the water hitting my skin felt like a thousand needles against the thin fabric of my clothes and the cold wind of the autumn breeze.  
  
         I heard Trena and Lindy curse loudly as they tried to run out of the water’s reach but Andrew made it clear he wasn’t letting them out and chased after them as far as the hose allowed him to. I heard Cass and Morgan laughing uncontrollably then the water was gone and I heard a splash, I turned to the view of the lake and saw Andrew’s and Tristan’s head popping out of the water. Tristan swam to the shore and attempted an escape when Andrew caught up and flung himself on to Tristan, both of them rolling around in the mud and grass, laughing. Thomas ran down to the lake and the rest of us followed, until Thomas turned tail and ran back toward us, I was the closest one to him but before he could get away to safety, Andrew grabbed his shirt from behind and yanked Thomas back, unaware he was also taking me down with them because just as Thomas lost his footing, he grabbed onto me.  
  
        “Shit!” I heard Andrew scream.  
  
        “Oh no, Persephone!” I heard Lindy’s voice, mixed with a yell and laughter and before I knew it, I felt the cold plunge of water as it engulfed my body then something strong snaked around my waist and pulled me up. I coughed as my head resurfaced.  
  
        “Andrew, you dick!” I heard Tristan’s voice shout. “Thomas can’t swim!”  
  
        “What?” Andrew hollered back. I shrieked when Andrew was suddenly pulled back under and ripped away from me, and then seconds later Thomas resurfaced.  
  
        “Thomas!” I yelled, swimming my way over to him, “Thomas let go of Andrew!”  
  
        “Persephone, get away from Thomas!” Cass yelled from the field, “He’ll only pull you under too!”  
  
        After what felt like forever saving both Andrew and Thomas, with the help of Tristan and Morgan, we flopped ourselves tiredly on to the grass, coughing and catching our breaths. Every inch of my body was shivering until Trena draped a blanket around me that Cass had rushed out with from the nurse’s office. Morgan and Trena helped me up while Lindy and Cass held up Andrew, and the eight of us treaded our way back to the school. It started with Tristan, who tried but failed to stifle his laughter but came out bursting instead, and then Thomas, being held up by Tristan, laughed along too. The laughter spread from them to the rest of us as we leaned on one another, weak and shivering from the cold until we were out of breath, which only made us laugh even harder and soon all of us, like dominoes, fell to the ground breathless once again but no longer shivering as badly.  
  
        “We’re going to die out here,” Morgan said through her laughter.  
  
        “Well, at least we’re dying close to home,” Tristan replied and everyone began laughing again, except me. The giddiness began to fade as I stared up at the cloud filled sky.  
  
         _Home._  
  
        Did I ever really have a home that knew the raw, exposed side of me? And loved me nonetheless?  
  
        I don’t think I’d ever have an answer to that.


	6. "A" for Ace

“A” for Ace

When I woke up the next morning, I had just noticed my room was a little cleaner than when I left it to go into town with Andrew yesterday, and I had slightly remembered the faint scent of citrus lemon when I came back to my room after the incident in town. The white marble sink in my bathroom and the doorknobs were too polished, there wasn’t a single strand of hair on the floors or in my brush and both the trashcans in my bathroom and next to my desk were empty. The entire room was spotless, but I had forgotten about it after pulling on my uniform and found myself walking to the Hall of History before class. I stopped in front of the Headmistress’s office and rapped on the door, and once Agent Goode answered I stepped in.

            “Persephone, good morning and how may I help you?” Agent Goode greeted with her usual friendliness, she sat at her desk and gave me a smile as I crossed the room and stood in front of her. Agent Goode placed down her pen and clasped her hands together on top of her desk.

            “I was just… am I really right for this job?” I asked while slowly dragging my nails down my arm, it was a habit I had, whenever I was nervous, anxious or frustrated, I’d find my hands clawing at some part of my skin and if not at my skin, then running through my hair.

            “Are you second-guessing yourself, Ms. Blackburn?” Agent Goode straighten in her seat, her posture and the air around her changed to the professionalism of a secret agent, her eyes were unwavering as they held mine but before anymore could be said, Mr. Goode had walked in from a door at the side of the room, bringing in the aroma of fresh coffee with him.

            I turned my head but then quickly redirected my gaze when I realized Mr. Goode’s button-up shirt was definitely not buttoned up and instead, wide opened. From the corner of my eyes I saw Mr. Goode look from me to Agent Goode, and then back again before he downed his cup of coffee, and then peered into it, he spoke.

            “Look at that, I need a refill,” Mr. Goode turned and went back the way he came, leaving me and Agent Goode in silence for a moment.

            “Ms. Blackburn, do you remember what we discussed when I first met you?” Agent Goode spoke as if Mr. Goode had never happened, so I went along as well and nodded.

            I thought back to my first encounter with Agent Goode, back to the dark room with the three screens and the cold, metal table where Agent Goode laid out the proposition of the mission. Back to when my options were simple and my choice and reasoning was clear to me, but what changed all that?

            _“There’s a task,” Agent Goode said, “a task, I feel, maybe only you can do.”_

            A task that required my ‘skills’.

            _“Ms. Blackburn, you know of Arashi Tech, yes?” Agent Goode asked after laying out the rest of the papers from the folder. Some of the papers contained cut-outs of news from old newspapers, while others were sheets of statistics and graphs, but I didn’t need all these scattered papers to tell me what Arashi Tech was._

_Everyone knew of Arashi Tech, and everyone knew how Arashi Tech became successful. It was a company based in Japan when it started off and when Bishamon Arashi inherited the company from his father in his mid-twenties, the company had sky-rocketed and continued to thrive even now, and had expanded across the world._

_The company was largely successful, though there were rumors that it had gained its success through the connections of underground gangs, who  called themselves the Kagenashis, and whose name means ‘shadowless feet’ in Japanese proved to be true as no one knew who was a Kagenashi and who was not. The uniform of the gang was nothing, which made them ghosts and indistinguishable, so no illegal activity or evidence can be traced back to Arashi Tech, therefore, making the company almost untouchable and the gang feared within the shadows._

_No one dared to go incur the violence of the gang and everyone loved the technology Arashi Tech offered, so to them it was no harm no foul, except for those who stood in their way, intentionally or unintentionally, they were all the same and were all silenced for good._

_“We had gotten word from an inside agent of Arashi Tech’s latest project, which is a chip designed and coded to tap into any software, hack into any system and can project its information worldwide within seconds. It is still in development as far as we know.”_

_“What does this have to do with me?” I asked impatiently._

_“Well, the project itself is highly exclusive, only a handful of scientists and company members are allowed in,_ and the security is tight. _” I caught the shift of tone in Agent Goode’s voice when she got to the security part, and I easily pieced together the purpose of my chosen role._

_“Isn’t that what you agents and spies are trained for?” I raised a brow, challenging Agent Goode’s intentions but Agent Goode gave me a sad smile._

_“Yes, that is what we’re trained to do, but the company’s security has proven tighter and well-kept than we had anticipated. It’s nearly impossible for us to get any information, let alone break into.”_

_“And yet you had an insider.” I pointed out._

_“Key word:_ had _,” Agent Goode emphasized, “we_ had _an insider.”_

_“And what makes you think I could do a better job than your_ trained _insider?” I leaned back into my chair, my brows slightly furrowed as I eyed Agent Goode from across the table. I watched as Agent Goode’s clasped hands tighten as her eyes drifted down to the scattered pieces of paper in front of us._

_“Our mistake,” Agent Goode began to speak after a moment, “was placing our insider as a scientist in that company, it was too high of a position that required a background check. Our double agent was discovered by Arashi three weeks into his mission, and we had recently found his body disposed in a river bank.”_

_“Again, what does this have to with me?”_

_“Kagenashi, Ms. Blackburn,” Agent Goode slid a black and white photo of man, taken from a security camera, “your role is to be recruited into the Kagenashi gang.”_

            I remembered what Agent Goode had said to me during our first meeting, the Kagenashis only recruited troubled young teens and kids, the people who had nothing to lose, the people who could be molded and shaped to Arashi’s needs. I remembered I had laughed at that.

            _“And what you’re asking of me is any different from what the Kagenashis are doing?”_

It had taken a long silence before Agent Goode admitted to their similarities, although her team was trying to save to the world, whilst Arashi could potentially destroy it.

            _“How so?” I asked, curious of the conclusion she had come up with._

_“The chip can hack into any system. Project any information out to the world to see. That means government secrets and military plans. What do you think happens when secrets are spilled?”_

_Generally, average secrets would usually cause a fight of some sort, but worldwide secrets, government secrets, military secrets; those would cause chaos, uproars, it would be maelstrom and mixed with personal secrets, twisted with fear and anger, there could be homicides. Countries against countries, people against people._

_It would be blown out war between anyone and everyone._

            _But what did I care? The world was already an ugly and fucked up place. I had nothing to lose, so what did I care?_

            _“Look, Agent Goode, what you’re looking for is someone who wants to play the superhero, who actually gives a shit about this world, but I’m not that hero,” The chains clattered together as I crossed my arms and shook my head while giving a humorless, empty laugh._

_“We’re not looking for a hero,” Agent Goode replied and then leaned forward. “Like you said, we aren’t any different from the Kagenashis recruiting a young teen with nothing to lose. I’m approaching you because you have nothing to lose in this mission, so therefore I know you would take whatever risk it would take to get what we want.”_

_This was a suicide mission._

            Now I know what has changed.

            Me.

            I’m the one who changed.

            “When I took this mission,” I began to say, more to myself but in the quiet room with only me and Agent Goode, I knew she was listening, “it was an empty suicide mission, whose outcome I didn’t really care much about, but now…”

            “Now you have something to lose,” Agent Goode finished for me, I looked up at her as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her expression was unreadable but I could have sworn I saw a hint of disappointment. The look on her face and the hint of disappointment stirred a little something inside me. I felt slightly offended somehow so I crossed my arms and stood straighter.

            “Now I have something to _fight_ for, and I will see to the end of this mission.” Agent Goode nodded approvingly, but something in her air told me otherwise. I gave Agent Goode a bow and turned to leave when the bookcase at the side of the room caught my eyes, and another question came to mind.

            “Agent Goode?” I asked without looking back at Agent Goode, my eyes kept on the bookcase. There was a brief silence before she answered. “Did you know I was going to find that secret passageway that night?” Agent Goode let out an almost humorless laugh.

            “No, Ms. Blackburn, I didn’t. But I knew you were smart enough to figure out the light and the map at one point. But you being at that bookcase that night was purely a coincidence, you were just at the right place at the right time.”

            “Then how did you know to turn the bookcase?”

            “I triggered the platform so if anyone steps on it, I would get a little shock from my watch.” I nodded, thinking it made sense and began making my way to the door when I barely caught the words that Agent Goode uttered in a soft voice. “But what I didn’t anticipate was you and my son.”

            I closed the door behind me. ‘ _Neither did I.’_

 

            “Now ladies and gentlemen, for the last thirty minutes of class, I shall begin the lesson of how to turn a classical instrument into a weapon and how it should be used to kill a person.” Madam Dabney’s voice floated through the air as she gracefully glided across the smooth stone floor to the large, dark wooden wardrobe at the corner of the tea room. Normally, a sentence like that would have fazed me but after learning how to kill someone with uncooked spaghetti, killing a person with a classical instrument seemed to make more sense.

            We all followed Madam Dabney to the corner of the room, and there she unlatched the doors and threw them opened, revealing two rows of violins hanging by their scrolls. I felt tickles in my stomach and my hands tingled and itched to feel the smooth surface of the violin, to rest the light weight instrument on my shoulder and lean into the music of the strings.

            “Madam Dabney, sorry to disturb your class, but I forgot my violin case here,” I heard a voice at the door but ignored it as Madam Dabney handed me my violin.

            “Oh, yes, Julian. It’s over there,” Madam Dabney replied as she gestured to the other side of the room. I walked back my table, with my gaze down at the beautiful piece of crafted work on the palms of my hands. I lifted the violin and tucked it at the curve between my shoulder and neck, resting my chin on the chinrest, I closed my eyes and felt the familiarity of the strings, and I could almost bring back the memory of playing in the sun soaked living room of our apartment. I brought the bow up to the violin but resisted the urge to play.

            _“Ready, Rosie?”_

_“Ready, Mama!”_

            I opened my eyes when Madam Dabney clapped her hands together, there was a twinge in my heart as I lowered the violin and turned my attention to Madam Dabney.

            “Before I start this lesson, I also want all of you to know that I will be hosting actual lessons on how to play these instruments. The lessons will be held in the East wing halls, where over the summer those classrooms were converted to music rooms, it will be on the first floor and lessons will begin after dinner.”

 

            “Come on, Persephone, you have one minute and thirty seconds left,” Mr. Goode’s voice carried out from the overhead speakers of the office-sized room. I huffed out a frustrated breath and clipped the wire but nothing happened.

            “One minute left. 59 seconds, 58… 57… 56…” Mr. Goode began counting down that made me roll my eyes.

            “How much trouble would I get into if I told you to fuck off?” I asked while looking up at the mirror across the small office room, I glared at my reflection, hoping he was standing where my reflection was sitting. I heard Mr. Goode laugh.

            “A lot,” he replied and I clipped another wire. “Oh, now your timer is down to 30 seconds. 29… 28…”

            I propped my elbow on the table and raised one finger at the mirror.

            “25… 24…” In the overhead speakers I could hear the amusement in Mr. Goode’s voice as he counted down. “Hurry it up, Persephone. 19… 18…” I huffed out another frustrated breath and looked around the room. Spotting the metal filing cabinet, I jumped out my chair and ran over to the cabinet, yanking open one of the drawers, and emptying its contents I turned back and from the desk at the centre of the room, I grabbed the black box with wires pouring out from behind and dropped the box into the drawer, I slammed it shut and walked over to the giant mirror where I crossed my arms and glared back at my reflection. The filing cabinet at the side rattled slightly, indicating the bomb had gone off.

            “Persephone,” Mr. Goode said after a moment, “you were supposed to defuse the bomb.”

            “Mr. Goode, let’s be real,” I talked to my reflection, “a real bomb wouldn’t have colourful wires pouring out of its ass, and it wouldn’t have an _annoying disembodied voice counting down the time for me_.” I waited for a moment. The door to side of the mirror clicked and I walked over and opened it. At the other side was Mr. Goode, leaning against a desk and smile curved his lips.

            “Fine, you win this one,” Mr. Goode said then cocked his head to the side, “but let’s see how well you fair with what’s up next.” I followed Mr. Goode to a large, metal room, at one side of the room were large black mats lining the floor and dummies standing at the sides, but where Mr. Goode led me was at the opposite side, a long metal table lined with black and silver weapons and a simple dark grey dummy in front of me.

            “Show me what you got,” Mr. Goode nodded to the weapons laid out in front of me. My eyes skimmed over the metallic items of various sizes and shapes, but all with the same purpose. I picked up the set of black daggers and turned to the direction of the dummy. I felt the weight of the daggers, the balance in the metal and the handle, and feeling the grip of the handle before I pulled my arm back and thrusted the dagger forward.

            I changed the amount of force I use with each dagger I threw, some buried deep into the dummy, while others fell slack onto the floor with a clank. As I threw, I saw Mr. Goode raise a brow at the daggers that have fallen to the ground. Once the last dagger embedded itself into the dummy, Mr. Goode pointed to the fallen knives.

            “I think we need to work on your consistency,” Mr. Goode said as I made my way to my backpack and pulled out a couple of cards from my deck. I repositioned myself in front of the dummy and held up the cards. Before Mr. Goode could say another word, I flicked my wrists and watched as the cards flew, one by one, into the slots the fallen daggers had made. Once the last card was in, I smiled to myself.

  1. for the Ace, those were my intentions when I let the daggers and the cards fly, but now, with the picture formed the letter held another meaning. That one single letter that used to represent one part of me, now also meant warm chocolate brown eyes, long slim fingers tangled with dark short hair, shy-lip-biting smiles and clever smirks, and rich, youthful laughter.



            “Were you thinking of leaving?” Mr. Goode’s voice brought me back and I turned to his direction but his eyes were on the dummy with the letter A displayed on its front, “this morning, when you went to see the Headmistress.”

            “Oh, that. I don’t know.” My voice was soft as my eyes drifted back to the dummy and I wondered, from Mr. Goode’s view, of what he saw and what came to his mind. And then it occurred to me, did he know about the Ace? Did he know about Rose?

            “Do you wish to tell them?”

            “I thought that wasn’t an option.”

            “I asked if you wished, not if you wanted.”

            I could wish, but not want, because wanting was dangerous. But wasn’t wishing dangerous too? Either way, the answer would have been the same.

            “Yes.”

 

            “Hey, Ace,” My heart jumped but I turned my head, unamused, to see Julian leaning over Thomas with both his hands propped at the edge of the table and as he leaned into Thomas, Thomas leaned closer to his soup. “Hi Tommy,” Julian looked down at the top of Thomas’s head and grinned.

            “Hi Julian,” Thomas said to his soup, the tips of his ears blushed pink as he tried to stifle the smile threatening to cross his lips. My gaze quickly shifted to Tristan for a second, who looked completely offended, and then back to Julian.

            “Can I talk to you for a second, Ace?” Julian cocked his head toward the doors of the Grand Hall. I thought about it for a minute before getting up from my seat and followed him to the doors, but I wasn’t out of earshot when Lindy whispered to Trena.

            “I’ve never seen Julian act that way before, have you?”

            At the door with Julian leaning against the frame, he handed me a small, white card with laces around the border. In the centre, in fine, neat golden printing was information on the music lesson held at the music room that Madam Dabney announced this morning. I looked at Julian without lifting my head and waved the card.

            “So?”

            “ _So_ , you should come tonight.”

            “Why?” I asked. Julian laughed, the corners of his blue eyes crinkled and for a moment I felt a twinge in my heart. His pale blue eyes, though not as brilliant, brought back memories of the youthful and playful glint in my father’s eyes. I crossed my arms and tapped my fingers against my forearm.

            “Because, Ace,” he gave me a smile that told me I should know but when I cocked a brow, he shook his head and continued. “It takes one to know one.” He shrugged. “I saw the way you held the violin. It was familiar to you and I know you wanted to play.” Julian’s smirk grew and I opened my mouth to protest but stopped when Thomas approached us.

            “Hey, could we talk?” Thomas asked while holding the same card that was in my hand, in front of his chest.

            Thomas led Julian and me to the lounge that sat at the entrance of the school, settled cozily between the two grand stairs.

            “Persephone, you’re joining the music program, right?” Thomas asked right after we took our seats with me sitting across from Thomas and Julian. I gave him a curious stare then my eyes darted to Julian, who threw his hands up in surrender as if to say he had nothing to do with this. Thomas quickly added, “Because if you’re going then I’m going too.”

            “Why does it matter if I go or not?”

            “I always wanted to learn some kind of instrument, but I’m too scared to do it alone.” Thomas replied, his hands vigorously wringing the life out of the other. “And I’m too embarrassed to let the others know.”

            “Well, it seems like Julian’s going, and since you two are suddenly all buddy-buddy I don’t see why I’m needed.” I crossed my arms again and leaned back into my seat as I eyed Thomas and Julian. Thomas shot straight up, the tips of his ears turned pink and he moved awkwardly in his seat, while Julian stretched out his legs in front of him and leaned back.

            “That’s why I need you at the lessons with me, if they found out it wouldn’t be blown out of proportion, and there’s a chance Tristan will listen and not get the wrong idea.” I opened my mouth and was about to tell Thomas that if there really was nothing going on, then he had nothing to hide from Tristan, but before I could get the words out Thomas spoke. “And Persephone, I would really like it if we could do this together.”

            I sat for a moment with a debate throwing inside my mind. Wasn’t this the something I was looking for in this academy? A friend who admits to be my friend? Assuming I don’t overlook or overthink into it and Thomas doesn’t have any ulterior motive. I thought telling them the truth would do me a favour, but maybe this music lesson with Thomas might help me too.

            “Come on, Ace,” Julian spoke. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “What do you say? Are you really going to stand in the way of Thomas and his dreams?”

            “Fine,” I finally answered after a moment. Thomas’s face lit up and Julian grinned, he turned to Thomas and gave him a friendly punch. My eyes narrowed at the two of them, “And there’s absolutely nothing going on between the two of you?”

            “Absolutely nothing! I swear on my Blackthorne Boy Honor,” Thomas shot straight up from his seat and held a hand over his heart.

            “What he said,” Julian said, pointing a finger up at Thomas but before I could say anymore we were interrupted.

            “Persephone,” We turned to the sound of Mr. Goode’s voice, “the junior class is going on a little trip for today’s Covert Ops class and that means you’re expected to come too–”

            “But I already–” I began to protest. Why did I need to go with the junior class for this afternoon? I already did my Covert Ops class, but Mr. Goode didn’t seem to care, he continued to speak over me.

            “And Mr. Cheng,” Julian stood up at the call of his name. “Bex wants the seniors in room 156.”


	7. I'm Giving You Mine

 

“Juniors.” The coarse voice of the stranger in front of them spoke. His one operating eye roamed the junior class as we stood in one of the large spaces of Sublevel Two.

            It was a surprise to all of us, when Mr. Goode called for his junior class to meet at the tall double doors of room 204 and yet, instead of meeting with our Covert Op teacher, we were greeted by a ragged old man in a maintenance uniform.

            The man limped to the front of the doors with a cane then turned to face us. His one brown eye, that wasn’t hidden behind an eyepatch, glared at the front row while his jutted jaw growled as if the sight of us was a nuisance. He scratched at the bald top of his head, where the grey hairs were thinning.

            “Sir?” A voice from the back spoke. The ragged man grunted a response. There was a brief pause before they spoke again. “Where’s Mr. Goode?”

            “Not here.” The man answered.

            “What did you do to him?” Andrew asked, stepping forward bravely to confront the man.

            I reached out and touched him by his wrist when the man stepped closer to Andrew. Andrew clenched his jaw but didn’t back down.

            “You boy,” the ragged man began, his coarse voice low. “You need to be less skeptic.”

            The man tapped the side of his temple with his left hand then jabbed a shaky finger at Andrew’s heart.

            “Trust.” The man said. For a second, his eye flickered to me. “Trust will save you.”

            I felt Andrew’s wrist tense beneath my fingers as he clenched his fist.

            “And who did you trust to give you that eyepatch?” Andrew replied coldly.

            The ragged man didn’t flinch but he didn’t laugh either. The man looked at Andrew as if he understood.

            “In this life, the wrong trust can get you killed.” Andrew continued, there was a soft crack in his voice but his face, firm and determined, never wavered.

            “But the right trust can give you a lifetime.” The ragged man countered. “Son, you just need to learn to trust yourself again.”

            He then turned his attention from Andrew to me, and took a step closer.

            Maybe it was out of habit, or he didn’t know he was doing it but Andrew moved in to block the ragged man, and that may have made the man chuckle drily but it certainly startled me. I glanced up at the side of Andrew’s face, expecting to see his eyes widen and his cheek reddening but his expression was resolute.

            “I won’t hurt your little girlfriend.” He said mockingly, then pushed Andrew aside. Pointing at me, he said. “You, what do you notice about me.”

            At first, it had struck me odd that he would ask me such a question. Until I caught sight of his left hand resting on the cane in front of him. The sleeve pulled slightly up that revealed a black watch.

            I raised a brow.

            “Nice watch.” I replied, nodding to his exposed skin.

            The ragged man chuckled a terrible cackling laugh that made me wonder if maybe I had guessed wrong, until I glanced to the side at Andrew, whose brows knitted together as he looked at the watch then his gaze flicked up to the man with recognition.

            “Dad?”

            The ragged man tossed his cane up, and catching it he used the handle to push up his eyepatch to reveal his forest green eye in contrast to the brown eye contact he wore on the other. He then slipped off his right shoe and shook out a stone that he later dropped in his pocket as he began to peel off the cap of grey hair, and took out the contraption that made his jaw jut out.

            “Disguise and deception.” Mr. Goode said with the voice of the ragged man, until he peeled off a skin-toned device taped to his neck. “Disguises are great for when you don’t want to be recognized.” A thin smile crossed his lips as he raised his brows and lightly shook the cap of grey hair, raising it slightly for the class to see. Mr. Goode began stripping away the layers of the ragged man and slowly became our Covert Ops teacher again.

            He placed a hand on the door handle.

            “But, you must commit to it.” He said as he lifted his left wrist, and shaking it he showed the class his black watch. His eyes caught mine as he smirked. “Rookie mistake.”

            Mr. Goode turned the handle and pushed open the doors to reveal the largest walk-in closet I’ve ever seen. The floor was padded with soft beige carpet that matched delicately with the white walls. We followed Mr. Goode in and walked past the first row of racks of clothes and accessories, and into a larger opening that on the other two sides opened to more halls. Behind Mr. Goode was a curving staircase with a light brown banister, he stepped one step up the stairs then turned to face the class.

            “Juniors,” Mr. Goode said again as his eyes roamed over us. “Today’s class will test your ability of being a tail _er_. Pun intended.”  

            Each of us were given a large, thin envelope. Initially, we thought inside the documents told us our new identities but instead they were headshots of actual people.

            Let me rephrase, they were headshots of actual _spies_ , agents that _we_ were supposed to be spying on. Or as Mr. Goode puts it:

            “You will be tailing experts for this covert class. The objective: don’t get caught.”

            Easy.

            “These people are you in twenty, thirty years.” Mr. Goode said. The class was eerily quiet that I could hear a pin drop in the intense silence of the junior class. Their full attention on Mr. Goode as he continued.

            “They have more experience and sharper senses. They have been where you are now, and they know they’re going to be tailed by you today.”

            Okay, less-easier. It’s easy to pick-pocket someone when they’re not expecting it, especially a stranger but as Mr. Goode said, they will be expecting it and even though they’re strangers to _me_ ¸ _I’m_ definitely no stranger to them.

            “Which is why,” Mr. Goode continued and swept an arm around to the room. “You’re all encouraged to pick and use a disguise that might help you succeed in this task.”

            I could feel the buzz of excitement as everyone took in the ball-room closet filled with clothes.

            “Before you begin, though.” Mr. Goode addressed to our attention. “Let me remind you, notice your surroundings when you’re out there. Take your time to get to know your subject.”

            I opened my envelope to a photo of a man and the first thing I noticed was the pale, lightning blue of his eyes, framed by long brown lashes that softened his steely gaze. His brown wavy hair was swept to the side that made him appear like a model rather than an agent. At the bottom-right corner of the picture, in small but bold blocks of font read: M. TOWNSEND.

            “This is what your goal is.” Mr. Goode said. I looked up from the photo to see him holding a white card. He turned it side to side as he showed the class. “It’s up to you to figure out where this card is on your subject, and how you will obtain it to succeed in this task.”

            Just as everyone was about to scatter, Mr. Goode called for our attention again.

            “But there is a catch. If you turn to the back of the headshots, you will see your subject’s destination.” Mr. Goode began.

            There was a wave of flutters as everyone turned over their photos. On the back of mine, scrawled in black ink was a name of an ice-cream shop in town. _Cherry on Top_.

            “Once your subject gets to their destination and you still haven’t obtained your goal, then you’ve failed the task. In the real world, you would’ve failed your mission.” Mr. Goode finished.

 

            I sat on one of the benches in the town square park. Across from me was my subject’s destination: _Cherry on Top,_ and sitting inside at one of the seats in front of the window was Mr. Goode. I sat back and glanced around the park, searching for my subject.

            “ _Persephone,_ ” Mr. Goode began, his voice rang in my ear. I adjusted the comm unit. “ _I’m going to need you to be a little more discreet._ ”

            I turned my gaze back to the window he sat and crossed my arms.

            “ _That is not being discreet._ ” He said.

            “And neither is taking to myself.” I replied under my breath.

            “ _Do what the others are doing,_ ” Mr. Goode advised, “ _walk around. Talk to others but keep a look out. Spies are meant to multitask._ ”

            And as if on cue, a girl’s voice came through my comm unit.

            “ _Oh, wow!_ ” She said with a high-pitched voice. I glanced over to the two girls standing near a shop window. “ _You like Av’s too?_ ”

            Even though she was now a brunette and wearing shoes that made her appear taller than she actually was, her voice was still that of Stephanie Johns.

            “ _Which line of hers do you like?_ ” Stephanie asked the stranger.

            “ _Oh, definitely her spring line._ ” The little blonde answered.

            “ _Me too!_ ” Stephanie squealed along with the blonde. She flung her hands out and knocked the papers out of a man’s hand.

            “ _Oh, my god!_ ” Stephanie gasped. “ _I am so sorry!_ ”

            She and the other girl bent down to help the man gather his papers. The man angrily swatted their hands away and reached for the stack in the blonde’s hands, and as he reached Stephanie plucked the white card sticking out his coat and slipped it into the pockets of her jacket.

            “ _Well done, Ms. Johns._ ” Mr. Goode praised as Stephanie stood and walked away.

            “ _Tris._ ” Trena said. “ _12 o’clock in 7…_ ”

            I watched as Tristan turned around and began walking toward Trena.

            “ _4… 3…_ ” Trena counted down under her breath. The two were close to meeting in the middle. “ _2…_ ”

            Tristan was still a couple steps behind and I wondered what they were up to, when Trena tripped and fell in front of a woman who rushed to her aid. As the woman bent down, Tristan slipped the white card out from her pocket.

            “ _Ms. Vale, Mr. Newman. Nice teamwork._ ” Mr. Goode said.

            All around I watched the junior class complete their task in one clever way or another. My eyes roamed the crowd of people, looking for the man in the headshot. I caught sight of a couple walking an overly excited, young golden retriever, they sat at a table outside of Beans Café. That was when I spotted my target.

            He sat at the table next to the couple, and was reading from his phone. He crossed one leg over the other, the black fabric of his pants at his ankle raised slightly and I saw it. He then reached over for his cup and brought it to his lips but paused. He turned his head, our gaze met and he raised his cup. A bitter smile crossed his lips before disappearing behind the cup.

            So, that was how he wanted to play the game.

            I got up from my bench, and walking through the park I headed towards the café, where the man in the black trench coat waited for me.

            “ _Persephone._ ” Mr. Goode warned. “ _What are you doing?_ ”

            I heard the excited whimper of the golden retriever as it sat obediently waiting for its treat. The owner patted its head.

            “ _Dude, dude!_ ” Tristan said.

            I glanced over to see him elbowing Andrew and shaking Lindy’s arm. They looked over in my direction. I heard the owners baby talk their dog.

            “ _Oh, my god._ ” Lindy said as she gasped, her gaze following my path to the man. “ _Is… is that?_ ”

            My heart pounded against my chest and in my ears, knowing Andrew and the entire junior class was watching me now. Well, needless to say, of course I was nervous.  

            “ _Oh, shit–_ ” Another voice filled my comm unit. “ _That can’t be–_ ”

            “ _Persephone got–_ ”

            “Junior Townsend.” Andrew finished. His voice echoed through the comms as I walked past him.

            Junior Townsend watched as I made my way over to his table, and pulling out the chair across from him, I sat down and called to the waiter for a cup of coffee before facing my target. Junior Townsend swirled the spoon in his tea.

            “I thought your teacher would have taught you better than this.” He said.

            “ _I did._ ” Mr. Goode said, though I doubt Junior Townsend heard.

            Mimicking his posture, I crossed one leg over the other and slipped out a card from my pocket, covering it with my hand. I leaned back casually, trying to hide the fact that my heart was thumping in my ears and there was a sea of anxiety washing up tides against my stomach.

            “The objective was to not get caught _while_ I took the card from you.” I managed to respond. “I haven’t been caught.”

            “Yet.” Junior Townsend said. “You’re not playing by the rules, sweetheart.”

            “And neither are you.” I countered. “Do you see any other agents raising a glass to their tailers?” I asked, and when he didn’t respond my lip curved into a thin smile. “You broke the rule first, _sweetheart_.”  

            “Being a smartass can get you killed, kid.”

            I heard Mr. Goode scoff. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the barista brewing a cup for me behind the counter while a few café workers gaped at the pretty boy in front of me.

            “ _Great, I placed two smartasses head to head._ ” Mr. Goode said. I smiled humorlessly.

            “I heard you’re a smartass too.” I replied, raising a brow to challenge him. Junior Townsend leaned forward.

            “That smug attitude of yours,” Junior Townsend began, “it won’t last you in the real world.”

            “Good thing this isn’t the real world, then.”

            “We’re training you for it.”

            I held his icy, steely gaze for a moment. The wave of anxiety no longer washed up my lungs and my heart returned to its normal routine. He was just a pretty face with no filter for his mouth. Through the comm unit, I could hear everyone holding their breath. I could feel their eyes on us. So, I leaned forward, too and lowered my voice.

            “Do you _really_ think they’re going to tell me what I’ll be looking for when I’m in there?” I said slowly.  

            It was a rhetorical question, and when Junior Townsend didn’t respond, I knew that he knew about my mission. I’d be lying if I said I was proud for stumping an expert, because in truth his silence only reassured my unease. I would be going into this mission– my mission, blind.

            Suddenly, my heart was in my throat and I couldn’t swallow. I inhaled through my nose and felt the weight of my heart. There was a flicker in his eye, a slight dip of his brows that shook me out of my panic. Out of my vulnerability. I straightened and pulled away, from the corner of my eyes I saw the waiter approaching. Leaning back, I made myself comfortable again and stretched a smile across my lips.

            Then, I did something that both embarrassed but benefited me in the next few moments.

            I brushed my foot against his and pressed my ankle against his. Junior Townsend jumped out of his seat, his thigh knocked the table and sent his drink spilling over the lower half of his black trench coat, his threw his hand in the air and caught the waiter’s tray that brought my coffee down on the rest of him.

            I failed to suppress my smile as he glared at me then down at his drenched coat. Another waiter came hustling over and reached to dab at the spot Junior Townsend had spilled his tea with a towel, but Junior Townsend yanked the towel away and smacked the waiter’s hand. I heard the jingle of the dog’s collar.

            “Really?” Agent Townsend said, gesturing to his clothes then aggressively wiping his coat down with the towel. “You’re not even going to pretend to help me?”

            I shrugged.

            “You know my goal.” I replied. Junior Townsend sent another glare at me then bent down and plucked the white card out of his sock. He held up the card.

            “You just failed this task.” He said through gritted teeth and slipped the card into the left pocket of his coat.

            “Technically, I haven’t.” I pointed out. “Not until you reach your destination.”

            Junior Townsend threw a couple of bills down at the table then angrily stalked past me, only to be stopped by the overly excited golden retriever, who pounced at Junior Townsend as it sniffed and licked him. In that moment of distraction, I slipped in the card I had in my hand and slipped out the one in his pocket.

            “I think he likes you.” I said as I smiled up at Junior Townsend, who scowled down at me.

The bones in my body locked when he reached in his pocket, but relaxed when his hand came out empty and he walked on. It was when Junior Townsend turned left at the corner of the café that I noticed we were still being watched by the junior class. I got up and strolled along the cobble sidewalk as I walked back to the bench. Avoiding their stares, I looked over my shoulder at Junior Townsend, who walked in strides to _Cherry on Top_ , as if he had important matters to attend to. Though, I suppose he did, and that matter was probably about me and probably the many things he wanted to complain about me.

            Sitting back down on the bench and watching as Junior Townsend entered _Cherry on Top_ , I was in a bubble of confidence until it was popped.

            “ _What’s she looking all smug for?_ ” someone said on the comm units.

            Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I kept my gaze at the window of the ice-cream shop where Junior Townsend approached Mr. Goode at the bar table. A couple of students walked passed the window, in front of my view and their eyes judging me. My fingers dug into my palms, and taking a hand out of my pocket, I reached up for the comm unit in my ear.

            _‘I’m not what you think.’_ My thoughts screamed at everyone around me. 

            “She’s not what you think.” A voice said from a distance in the comm unit. My hand froze and my eyes shifted to the dark-haired boy standing with two students from the junior class. In one hand, he held an ice-cream cone and lifted the other to point at the window, where Junior Townsend was standing before Mr. Goode.    

            “ _Zach, she failed._ ” Junior Townsend said, his voice caught in Mr. Goode’s comm unit.

            I watched as he pulled out the card in his pocket, and did a double take when the card he saw was not a white one, but a black one with a simple, white A in the center. From the distance, I could see Mr. Goode grin.

            “ _Actually, Michael, I think she passed._ ” Mr. Goode replied.

            With no interest in hearing the rest, I yanked out the comm unit and rolled it around at the palm of my hand. Running a hand through my hair, I looked up just as Julian sat down next to me and offered his ice-cream.

            “Don’t give me that look.” He said then grinned. “It’s vanilla. Basic, I know but it’s a flavour that never fails.”

            “What game are we playing now?” I asked, giving Julian a tired look as I sat back.

            “What game?” He said with a chuckle.

            “What do you want from me?”

            “Nothing, I just–”

            “Because I can’t tell you anything about myself, if that’s what you’re after.”

            “Whoa, Ace. I wasn’t trying to–”

            “You know what? Everyone–”

            “Has their own secrets.” Julian said, his steady voice and unfaltering gaze stymied me. “And you’re allowed to have yours.” His blue eyes, as soft as his voice, eased the lump in my throat and gently tugged the knot free in my stomach.

            In a strange way, Julian’s words lifted an emotional weight off my chest and lowered the volume of white noise buzzing at the sides of my skull. I was allowed to have secrets and it was okay. It made the difference hearing it out loud.

            “Ace, I’m really just trying to be your friend.” Julian touched me by the forearm, and I realized it always came down to that. To that one word that I always find myself caring too much about. That one word that drew a line between security and uncertainty.

            _Friend_.

            When did that become so important to me? What did it even mean to me?

 

            “Friend. Noun. A person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection.” Thomas recited from his dictionary. “Oh, and typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.” He nodded with satisfaction as he closed his book.

            “Thomas, I didn’t…” I began but started to laugh. “I didn’t mean the literal definition of a friend.”

            “Well, you asked me what it meant, so…” Thomas shrugged, the tips of his ears blushed pink. Julian grinned as he ruffled Thomas’ hair.

            “A friend,” Julian began as he handed me the violin and sat in the velvet seat next to mine, “is someone who you can trust.” I leaned to the side and caught both their attentions.

            “And do you?” I asked. “Do you guys trust me?”

            Thomas squinted his eyes, his brows slightly furrowed and his lips parted as he stared at the space in front of him.

            “Persephone,” Thomas said, “I consulted you about my relationship problems and was motivated to join this class because of you,” Thomas started nodding then pushed his glasses up and met my eyes. “So, yeah I trust you.” He held a fist out. Smiling, I bumped it with mine.

            “And you should already know my answer.” Julian replied. His eyes glistened as he smiled at me. I felt… secured, like a tiny part of me belonged. And maybe it did, in the music room of the East wing.

            “Do you mind if I joined?” His voice spoke from behind me. I turned around, the butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach.

            “Go ahead,” I managed to say as I made a quick and small gesture to the seat next to me. In a quick glance, I saw the corner of Andrew’s lip twitch up as he sat down. My eyes drifted down to the small gap between our thighs, one shift and our knees would touch.

            I pushed the thought out of my head and sat very still. I distracted myself by glancing around the large room. It was, much like the rest of the mansion, a very pristine room with its white walls and dark wooden laminate flooring. The velvet chairs, that we were sitting on, were arranged in a crescent arch, all facing the grand piano that sat in front of the large windows, with their red curtains pulled shut, and pillars in between. I watched as Madam Dabney gracefully made her way up to the front of the room, standing next to the grand piano.

            “Before we begin our lesson,” Madam Dabney began. She clasped her hands together and smiled sweetly as she gestured to Julian. “Will you play a piece for us, dear?”

            A bashful smile spread across Julian’s face as he bowed his head and stood up.

            “I would love to,” he responded as he walked to the front, and when he turned around he grinned a devilish smile at me. “But only, if Persephone will play a duet with me.”

            “Wonderful!” Madam Dabney said excitedly as she urged me forward. I gripped my seat to keep myself from falling.

            “I can’t.” I said, shaking my head. “Julian, I haven’t played in years.”

            “Ace,” Julian said in a honeyed voice. “Come on.”

            Subconsciously, I looked to Andrew, his lip twitched into a small smile. He closed the small gap between our thighs and nudged my knee with his, and that was all the encouragement I needed as I stood up with the violin in one hand and the bow in the other, and walked to the front. Julian gave me a wink.

            “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m confident you’ll know this one.”

            As Julian gently settled his violin in the space between his neck, I took in a breath and slowly let it out when Julian began playing the beginning of Canon in D. I caught his eyes as he looked at me from under his lashes and smiled, and I joined.

            As everyone began packing away their violins and heading out, ready to call it a night, I spotted Andrew slipping into one of the rooms at the side of the music room. I walked along the side of the music room, and once Madam Dabney’s back was to me I quickly slipped into the room Andrew disappeared in. The light in the music room behind me turned off and I was left in the dark. My hand groped the wall for a switch, when I found it I switched on the lights.

            At one of the pianos that lined the room in rows, in the back corner of the room, was Andrew. He sat with his head down and his hand gently brushing the surface of the piano keys. I walked over to him.

            “Hey, you.” I said softly, standing at the side of the piano. Andrew glanced up and gave me a soft smile.

            “I didn’t think anyone noticed.” He said.

            “I noticed.” I replied. “May I?”

            Andrew nodded and I took a seat next to him, intentionally leaving a small gap between us but to my surprise, he closed it. His knee against mine. His thigh next to mine, and his arm touched mine. I found myself looking at his sharp jawline to the curve of his neck, and down to the slope of his shoulders, and I realized Andrew was still taller than me even when he slouched. My eyes flickered down to our hands when Andrew’s thumb tickled the back of my hand. His eyes were watching our hands too.

            “Can you play the piano, too?” He asked, his eyes still watching his thumb brush against my hand.

            “I used to.” I answered meekly, not daring to move. Afraid that if I did, he would stop.

            But he didn’t when his eyes caught mine.

            “Can you play a song for me?” he asked with bashful smile. My breath caught in my throat.

            “It’s been so long,” I replied, breathing out. Andrew shrugged.

            Lifting my hand away from his touch, I placed them on the smooth surface of the piano.

            “This was a song my dad always played for my mom.” I told him as I relearnt the hands of an old friend. I laughed. “But um… fair warning, I didn’t inherit my parents’ vocals for singing.”

            From the corner of my eyes I saw Andrew grin, and for the first time I understood the lyrics of the song my dad sang for my mom. It felt almost perfect.

            Taking a deep breath in, I began to play.

 _I like your smile_  
_but even introductions need to last awhile_  
sometimes I don’t know if I’m right or wrong  
and in the end it seems like everything is worse when  
you’re gone

            I was painfully aware of how offkey I was but as I glanced at Andrew, he didn’t seem to mind a bit. Instead, his grin grew and when his eyes met mine, I was surprised. He began to sing too.

 _There is no upper hand_  
I’m giving you mine  
it doesn’t have to end up wasting your time  
there’s things that I could say  
but hear it my way  
I want to let you know that it’s all okay

            “You knew the song?” I asked. Andrew leaned back on his hands and bit the bottom of his lip, suppressing a smile.

            “I was listening to it on your iPod that night I followed you back to your room.” He admitted.

            I laughed then glanced down at my hands, my palms facing upward. I felt Andrew lean forward then his hand slipped into mine. His slender fingers filled the spaces between mine, his thumb brushed against the side of my finger, lightly kissing the skin.  

            “I’m sorry,” Andrew began. I met his eyes and cocked my head slightly to the side. “For not being there for you. For having doubts.”

            “Andrew, it’s okay.”

            “No,” Andrew shook his head, “it wasn’t okay. It was an ass move, distancing myself because you had secrets.” Andrew took a breath. “Everyone has secrets,” he glanced down. “and you’re allowed to have yours.”

            I furrowed my brow. How could he have known? Then, I remembered I had the comm unit in my hand. He heard everything between me and Julian.

            “I couldn’t trust you because I didn’t trust myself,” Andrew continued. “I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.”

            “What do you mean?” I asked, and when he didn’t look up, I gently touched his cheek with my hand. My heart pinched when my eyes met with his, soft with sorrow.

            “I trusted someone before,” Andrew began, “and it almost costed Morgan’s life.”


End file.
